Wishing and Dreaming
by Foxcat93
Summary: A Little Tramp story. A rich man and a poor man's lives become strangely intertwined. Includes two interesting "families." Some serious drama with a bit of humour. Rated T for alcohol abuse.
1. The Blizzard

**Wishing and Dreaming**

Chapter 1 - The Blizzard

It was the dead of winter. Large white flakes drifted down to join their siblings already on the ground. A brisk wind whipped them about. It wasn't a time for man or beast to be outside.

It was just after sunset and right about supper time. The streets were nearly deserted except for a lone traveller who had come to town from who-knows-where. The traveller walked briskly trying to keep warm.

The snow swirled around him. The icy wind whipped around the traveller and played with the edges of the blanket he had about his shoulders, secured with a large safety pin. He held on to his hat and walked against the wind. Suddenly he heard a sound, as of a baby crying. He stopped and looked around. Not seeing anything, he continued on his way. Then he heard it again. Looking down, he saw a small and scrawny brown tabby winding its way around his legs.

He picked up the shivering creature and held it under the blanket. The traveller was shivering himself. He had hoped to find a warm place to stay inside tonight. The rooming houses and flophouses were already full. He had only a little money, but it would be enough to rent a bed for the night and get a bit of food in the morning…that is if he could find a room.

Suddenly two young teen-agers jumped out of nowhere. They were grinning like jack-o-lanterns and each held a knife. "What do you got there?" asked the first one, menacingly.

"Nothin'," said the traveller.

"Let's see!" said the second boy. He ripped the blanket off the traveller's shoulders and threw it to the ground. The frightened cat bounded from the traveller's arms and ran off to seek safety.

"Ha! It's just a cat!" said the first thug. "You got any money?"

The traveller ignored the boys and picked up his blanket, replacing it on his shoulders. Now the large pin was gone. He pushed the snow around with his shoe to see if he could find it.

"I said you got any money, you ol' bum?"

"None t' speak of…" said the traveller, who didn't reply to the rude epithet. He was not old, merely older than the ill-mannered teens. And he wasn't a bum either; he always worked for his wages. Then they showed themselves to be more than just ill-mannered. The first boy punched the traveller in the face and grabbed his arms and held them behind his back while the second thug went through the man's pockets.

"Jeff!" said the second teen…"He's got four bits here and some change! Oh, and look at this…" he found a folding knife in the man's pocket, along with a pocket watch. The boy pocketed the traveller's money, along with his watch and the knife. He saw the traveller's cat peering out from under a broken wooden step, and he made a grab at it, but the cat disappeared into the darkness. While the second teen was worrying the cat, the traveller pulled away from the first thug, kicked the boy in his derriere, then turned and kicked the other one too. Surprised, the boy got up slowly and the traveller punched him in the chest, shook him hard for a moment, then turned quick as a flash and did the same to the other teen.

Pulling his blanket off the sidewalk again, the wiry little traveller ran as fast as an athlete, but with an odd gait. He quickly outdistanced the boys and hid in an alley, in a doorway. Waiting until the boys had gone on their way, the traveller went back to where he had left the cat. He peered under the snowy step and called softly. The cat came out and he put it under his blanket as before.

The traveller was warmer after his flight and he walked faster. He needed to find a place to stay; it was too cold to sleep in the open as he had done many a time before, but in fairer weather. He was getting cold again and he rubbed the cat's fur to warm it a bit. Facing the street, he took shelter in another doorway, temporarily out of the wind. He sat on the cold tile which hadn't gotten wet yet and drew his blanket about him and pulled his knees up close against his chest, cradling the cat.

The traveller heard the sound of a lone motorcar and turned to catch a glance of the automobile and an outline of a man in a top hat and his chauffeur inside. In the blink of an eye, he saw the man gaze curiously at him for just an instant. Then the man glanced away. The traveller followed the car with his eyes until the falling snow obliterated it and he heard its engine sounds become fainter and fainter. He closed his eyes for a moment and wished that he had a fine car and a warm home to go to like that rich man obviously did. It would be so good to have a family and a little money. Money could buy so much…food, shelter, a few niceties…but he shook himself out of his reverie. If he fell asleep now in the snow, he might…well, he didn't want to think about that possibility.

The traveller shivered and huddled as far back in the doorway as he could to get away from the blizzard and the gusting wind. He sported a pair of once-fancy black leather gloves that now boasted only three ragged fingers on each hand. His fingers and toes were so cold he could barely feel them. He huddled in a corner and pulled the blanket closer about himself and the cat.

He closed his eyes and wished again that he had a motorcar and a warm place to go to tonight - a real home, like the man in the top hat undoubtedly did. In his mind's eye, _he saw himself in a top hat and tails, dancing with a lovely blonde, curly-haired young woman with a sweet smile. She gently kissed the traveller and they held each other close as they danced. He could feel her warmth and the touch of her hand on his back. The music stopped and they sat down at a table gazing into each other's eyes, hers were green; his a dark blue, almost violet. They were so in love that they were oblivious to the smiling glances of the others attending the dance._

_The waiter came by to take their order._

"_Sir, may I take your order, please…Sir, Sir…." _The traveller was suddenly awakened as by a shot from a rifle. He jumped to his feet, startled. Then he realized he had fallen asleep and been awakened by the backfiring of a car. He leaned over again to pick up the cat.

It would be so easy to fall asleep again, but he didn't dare. He started walking again, his head down, his body fighting the raw wind of the blizzard. The tiny snowflakes were almost ice and they hit his face with a painful ping, as if they were needles. He struggled on, hoping to find shelter. He walked several blocks and stopped in front of a huge edifice with a neon sign indicating it was a Rescue Mission and Homeless Shelter.

He normally wouldn't go into a Rescue Mission because he didn't like to have to listen to sermons. But the traveller was so cold he didn't care. He walked up the twenty five steps to the door of the building which looked as if it could have been an auditorium in its heyday. A sign on the heavy door stated "Open from 6 am to 11 pm." He opened the door and went in.

He saw a bench in the entrance hallway and sat down, placing the cat on his lap. It stayed there.

A young woman watched the traveller from the opposite doorway. She was about to greet him when she paused. Sometimes you could get a feel for a person by observing them while they were unaware. She loved helping the needy people of the city and she tried to get to know each one who passed through her doors. Some were friendlier than others. Some just wanted to get a meal and go on their way.

The traveller rubbed his arms and legs. He wore a battered black derby and a black jacket and trousers. He carried a bamboo walking stick, the crook of which was tucked in his jacket's breast pocket at the moment. He had but a thin shirt with no collar or tie and a threadbare waistcoat. She saw the tattered gloves. His face was reddened from the cold and he tried to warm his nose and cheeks with his hands.

The man was obviously a vagrant. His trousers were mostly rags from the knees down. His ankles were visible through the tears. He seemed concerned about the cat. He took the blanket from his shoulders, placing it on the bench next to him and put the bedraggled little cat on it. It seemed too cold to move. He tried to dry the animal's fur with the blanket, but it was also quite wet.

"May I help you?" A woman's voice said softly. The traveller looked up to see a small elegant woman with blonde hair pinned up behind her head, some of her straggling curls refusing to be tamed. She was wearing plain and simple clothing and a lovely, welcoming smile.

The traveller stood up and tipped his hat to her. She looked familiar…why he had just seen her in his dream, while he was out in the snow. How very strange!

He smiled and his large blue eyes smiled too. He wore a small neat black moustache that contrasted with his black and curly, tangled, and at the moment very wet hair. He was a small man, short of stature, and very slender. He had a certain incongruous grace and elegance about him though, even when standing still. And he was visibly shivering from his wet clothes.

"You look cold, Sir," said the woman, understating the facts.

He nodded and smiled, having a hard time taking his eyes off of her. He was entranced by her green eyes, sparkling and friendly.

"I'm afraid we don't take animals, Sir…" she said, looking at the bedraggled cat. Its green eyes looked sad.

"I can't leave me lit 'tle frien' 'ere, out in th' cold. She jus 'ad a bad experience…"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, some young lads outside scared 'er…"

The woman came closer. "Did you have a bad experience with them too? You have the beginnings of a very lovely black eye…"

"They rough'd me up a bi', bu' I go' th' best o' 'em…"

"I can let you have a bed, but I can't let you take the cat in the dormitory…"

"Oh, what's her name?" asked a child's voice. The vagrant turned around and saw a seven-year old girl with short, red curly hair. She came over to the man apprehensively. "May I pet your cat?"

"She ain't really me cat…we jus' met; she belongs to 'er-se'f…don't know 'er name, missy…Bu' y' c'n pet 'er…"

"Mama, can I take care of her for the man…please….?"

"Sir, is that all right with you?"

"Me name is Charlie…I'm please t' meet 'y…" He tipped his hat again.

"Pleased to meet you Charlie. I'm Rebecca Louvain. I run this mission…alone, lately, well of course with the help of my daughter, Daisy."

The little tramp smiled. "Daisy c'n tyke care o' me cat, if she loikes…"

"Daisy, dry her fur and brush it out and give her some food and water. Put a blanket somewhere for a bed she can sleep on…And Daisy, get an old flat pan and line it with paper for her. She'll know what to do with it."

"Yes, Mama," said the girl happily, taking the cat carefully in her arms and up the stairs.

"Charlie, you look hungry. We've finished eating, but there are always plenty of leftovers." She gave him another once-over look. You need some warm clothes, too. Why you must be freezing!"

He smiled. "I'm 'ungry, Ma'am…I'd be pleased t' eat some food what's lef'…"

"Let me warm something up for you." She pointed. "There is a closet with donated clothing. If you look through the boxes, you should find something that will fit you. You will feel better in dry clothing."

The tramp changed his clothes and came into the deserted dining room. Rebecca smiled at his rather odd choices. He had found a tie and a shirt with a collar, a blue plaid waistcoat, a black jacket with tails that was a tiny bit too small, and some gray trousers, quite a bit too large. He was still wearing his huge broken-down shoes. Carrying his cane and hat, though, his politeness and grace gave the impression that he was almost "the proper gentleman."

"Sit down, Charlie," said Rebecca. "I will join you…I didn't have much time to eat tonight. There is always so much to do."

The tramp was very hungry and asked for a second helping. "I almost didn't see th' mission, Ma'am. Only sawr it b'cause the soign was lit up."

"I'm thankful you did find it, Charlie. By the way, who did you run into…who gave you the black eye?"

"Some young lads wha' I neveh seen b'fore. Don't know nobody …first toime I been 'ere in 'is town…"

"Describe them to me, Charlie."

He gave Rebecca a detailed description.

"I know who they are, Charlie. They haunt the streets around here, hoping to steal money and valuables from the people in the neighbourhood. They wait till there is a person alone…it's not safe after dark. They ought to be ashamed, stealing from those who have so little. Did they get anything, Charlie?"

"Yeah, they go' me bi' o' money, me pocke' watch and me knoife."

"I'm sorry," said Rebecca in indignation.

Charlie grinned. "I done a lit' tle pick-pocketin' once mese'f, Ma'am. I ge' me t'ings back…." He pulled out his pocket watch, knife and his dollar and change. He laid them on the table with triumph."

Rebecca smiled. "Well, aren't you something!"

He smiled and handed her the bit of change. "'Ere, take this f' th' meal an' takin' me in."

"You don't need to pay me, Charlie…." He looked slightly hurt, so she took the money and smiled. "Thank you, I appreciate it."

Then he took out a small battered tin box from his back pocket. "Do y' moind if I smoke?"

"No, that's perfectly all right."

She watched in amusement as he opened the box which held a selection of cigarette butts. He selected one, lit it and dragged deeply on the tiny stub. After inhaling several times, it was in danger of burning his fingers and he put it out.

"Y' ave any jobs in this plyce?"

"We have a lot of things that need to be done, Charlie, but since it's a charity, we're all volunteers. We rely on donations. We have several large donors and lots of small ones who give what they can. Most of our food is donated also. I would be happy to give you a job with room and board, meals included, but I can't pay you anything."

"Wha' kinda job y' 'ave, Ma'am?"

"We need a handyman/janitor badly. And sometimes we need help with other things, when volunteers don't show up, etc. The winter is usually a bad time. People don't want to come out."

"I be glad t' do tha', Ma'am."

"Have you ever done work like that before?"

"I been a janitor…what does a 'andyman do?"

"He fixes things that are broken; whatever needs to be done…"

"I c'n do tha', Ma'am."

Well, then follow me to the office. I need to get some information though, some paperwork.

The tramp followed, twirling his cane jauntily. He sat across from Rebecca. She handed him a form to fill out. He squinted at it."Why y' need this?"

"I like to have a little information on all my volunteers. Can you read and write, Charlie?" He nodded.

The tramp squinted at the form again. He wrote his name, carefully and painstakingly. He crossed out address and phone number. It was taking him a very long time and Rebecca suspected that he needed glasses and perhaps could not read and write as well as he wanted her to think. He handed it back after erasing a few times.

Rebecca was surprised that the tramp didn't know his exact date of birth. He gave her the year and she calculated that he was about forty-six years old. Finally they got the form filled out.

"Charlie, because you are going to be one of my volunteers, and if you will agree to stay at the mission for a period of time, I will assign you one of the rooms upstairs where my other volunteers stay."

Charlie smiled and nodded.

"If you want to see how the cat is doing, we can stop in at my apartment." Charlie nodded and gave her a wide smile. He was very drawn to Rebecca and he liked Daisy too.

Rebecca thought he was rather handsome in an odd way. He had combed out his curly black hair and now that it was dry, she could see a bit of grey in it. She found his large expressive eyes quite irresistible.


	2. Charles Michael O'Sullivan the 2nd

Chapter 2 Charles Michael O'Sullivan the 2nd

Just a bit earlier, the man in the top hat, riding home in his chauffeured car, looked idly out of the window. The snow was swirling about fiercely, but through it, he saw the face of a man sitting in a doorway gazing wistfully at him as he rode by. For an instant, the rich man and the poor man's eyes met. Then the man in the top hat turned his face away.

A few miles away from the mission, just outside the edge of town, the motorcar pulled up in front of a large mansion. The chauffeur turned off the car and ran up to the front entrance. The chauffeur knocked on the door.

"I need your help, Templeton," he said, in a German accent, as the front door was opened. The wind had picked up even more, and the snow was beginning to pile up and it was slippery. The butler, Templeton, was a tall man in formal attire. He pulled on an overcoat and came out to the car where the man in the top hat was sitting.

"You can come out now, Sir," said the butler in an English accent. Between the two servants, they helped the man out of the car and walked with him, one on either side, slowly up the few icy steps to the front door.

"Where do you want to go, Sir?" asked Templeton.

"The parlour…take me to the parlour," said the man." Georg and Templeton took him into the parlour. He sat on the settee and gave his Inverness cloak to Templeton.

"The ottoman, Templeton…" said the man. Templeton pulled the ottoman over to the chair and gently placed his employer's left leg on it. "Templeton, can't you be a bit careful, that's painful, you know," he said crossly to the butler. "And bring me my usual. Be quick about it!"

"Very well, sir," said Templeton. Georg and Templeton exited the room.

The parlour was a large ornate room with a fireplace. One wall was completely mirrored which made the room appear larger. Red Victorian wallpaper and dark cherry woodwork made the room cosy and the crackling fire and gas lamps on the wall added light and warmth. A nicer room one could not find on a bitterly cold evening.

Charles Michael O'Sullivan was considerably taller than average and a bit heavyset; he appeared to be in his mid-forties. He had a dark thick straight moustache and dark curly hair, parted in the middle and slicked down with hair oil. He might have been handsome, but he had a scowl on his face and his blue eyes were icy.

Just then a small, thin woman of about sixty-some years came into the room. She had still-dark curly hair just beginning to grey and wore a long navy blue gown with a beaded ecru shawl around her shoulders.

"Michael, where were you?"

"None of your business, Mother. And I've sworn the servants to silence."

"I don't think I have to guess, Michael. You were out carousing with your rowdy friends again."

"And how does this concern you, Mother dear?" said Michael, sarcastically.

"Michael, you are a little too old to be carousing every night…"

At that moment Templeton entered the room with a bottle of liquor and a glass. He set the tray down next to Michael and poured some in the glass.

"It's about time, Templeton," said Michael in a rude tone.

"Michael, you don't have to be rude to the servants. There is no call for that."

"Shut up, Mother and mind your own business!" snarled her son.

"It _is_ my business. I employ them Michael, and I don't want them leaving because of your rude manners."

Neither of them said anything for a few moments. Michael was sulking.

His mother broke the silence. "I have news, Michael."

"What is it, your annoying sister coming into town and ready to overstay her welcome as usual?"

His mother sighed. "She's your aunt, Michael, but no, she's not coming. I received a letter. It's from the theatre company. You've been terminated."

"Have you been reading my mail again, Mother?" said Michael in an angry tone.

"No, it was addressed to me."

"Where is the letter, Mother? Why wouldn't they send it to me?"

"I expect they wanted to make sure you really received the information in the letter."

She walked over to the bureau and took out an envelope. She handed the letter to Michael. He started searching his pockets, inside and outside of his coat. "Where are my blasted spectacles, Mother?" He made a move to stand up.

"Never mind, Michael. Don't get up. I wouldn't want you to strain yourself. I'm sure they're in the drawer where you always leave them." She handed the rimless glasses to her son.

He read the letter which indeed was a termination letter from the theatre where he worked on and off as an actor. It stated the reason for his termination was that he had not shown up for work or come late or "in an unacceptable condition" too many times in the past few months which put the theatre company at a disadvantage. Another actor was joining the company to take his place.

Michael finished reading the letter and said a few choice words, then crumpled the letter in a ball and threw it on the floor.

"Michael, I don't want to hear you speak that way around here. I can't stop you from associating with your rowdy friends, but I don't want your daughter to hear you, do you understand?"

"Mother, I'm 46 years old. I can say what I want."

"Not in front of a seven-year old, Michael. And tell me, why do you have to associate with those low-life friends of yours anyway? There are plenty of people you would do well to associate with who could help you do something worthwhile with your life. I can't understand why you didn't follow your father and grandfather into banking…"

"Shut up, Mother, and get out of here before I throw something at you!" She left quickly and shut the pocket doors behind her.

Michael poured himself another drink. There was a timid knock on the door. "Daddy, can I come in?" The scowl on Michael's face softened and he almost smiled.

"Come in, Annie."

A pretty little girl with long red hair and green eyes entered the room. She closed the pocket doors behind her. "Hi, Daddy!" she said, skipping over to him. She jumped up on the settee and gave him a kiss. He hugged and kissed her back. "When are you going to take me to see you in a play again? It's been a long time."

"Honey, Daddy isn't going to be working at the theatre any more."

"How come?"

"They don't want me, Annie."

"Oh, how could they not want you?"

"I don't know, Annie. It's certainly not my fault."

Michael took a drink from his glass. "Daddy, maybe they don't like you to drink. You aren't very nice sometimes…"

"Anna, shut up. You're beginning to sound just like your grandmother…"

Annie looked a little scared. "But it's true…"

"Anna, get out of here and go to bed before I slap your face for sassing me!" he said angrily.

"But I didn't mean to sass you, Daddy!" The little girl was crying now.

"Didn't I tell you to get out of here? Do I have to paddle you?" He made a move to stand up and Annie ran crying from the room. He got up with the help of his elegant ebony cane and limped over to the window. The snow had let up and the wind wasn't so wild. He saw a homeless man walking slowly up the driveway which led to the back of the house. The servants must be feeding beggars again! He reached for the bell pull to call Templeton.

When the servant arrived, he said, "Have the maids been feeding those tramps and beggars again? I want it stopped! There's one going to the servant's kitchen right now. Have the door locked and don't let the maids get away with it!"

"Yes, Sir," said Templeton. Michael always got in a tizzy when he saw someone getting a free handout from his home. Michael's mother always gave freely to those in need, but Michael hated it. He had any hoboes, tramps or beggars shooed away from his house so they wouldn't get any handouts.

What he didn't know is that Michael's mother had told Templeton and the other servants to ignore Michael's orders about this and to always be kind and generous to the poor who came around for a handout in these days of depression in the early 1930's.

The O'Sullivans were luckier than most, Eleanore O'Sullivan, Michael's mother, had inherited millions of dollars from her family and had married into money. She had managed to hold on to most of her money in the crash of '29 and Eleanore wanted to share her good fortune with those less privileged. She gave to many charities who helped the poor, unbeknownst to her son.

Her son, Charles Michael O'Sullivan, was a miserly sort who felt that the poor should stop mooching off of families like his and go out and get an honest job. He had no idea what the atmosphere was like out there. And he, himself, had just lost his job, which would have been devastating had he not resided in his mother's home and lived off of her money. But he could not see the irony of it.

Michael sat down again on the settee and put his head in his hands. He was very depressed. He was tired of his mother's incessant nagging. Why couldn't she mind her own business? Unfortunately, she held the purse strings. He would ultimately inherit all her money, but he would probably be too old to enjoy it. And his crippled leg kept him from doing a lot of things. Some days the pain was almost unbearable. He felt so trapped. In the theatre company, since his accident, Michael was relegated to sitting roles most of the time and he was losing interest in acting because of it. Of course, the fact that they had fired him just made him more depressed. He wished that he were free of all those things that irritated him so. And his mother's nagging was at the top of the list.

Michael felt very sorry for himself. He could have gone out on his own and found another position to occupy him….his mother was right, she was well-connected and one of her connections would surely take him on in a job fit for a gentleman like himself. However, he wouldn't admit, even to himself, that he did like being waited on hand and foot and he liked not having to lift a finger to do anything. He preferred the life of leisure, with his mother paying the bill. He rather liked to complain and feel sorry for himself too.


	3. The Tramp is Put to Work

Chapter 3 - The Tramp is Put to Work

After breakfast, the following day, Rebecca gave the tramp his work assignment. She gave him a mop, broom and other janitorial implements and told him to start cleaning the dining room floor. The room was huge and it took the tramp several hours to finish mopping. He stopped to pick up cigarette butts and put them in the little box in his pocket.

Rebecca entered the room a bit later and observed the tramp working. "Good job, Charlie! You can mop the dormitory too. I have a list here of some other tasks that need to be done today…."

He took the list and sat down to read it.

"Charlie, do you want me to read it to you?" asked Rebecca.

"No, I c'n read it, Ma'am…" he insisted.

"You'll need a ladder for some of those things, Charlie. There's one in the closet near the back of the dormitory."

He smiled. "Thank y' Ma'am."

Later, Rebecca came back to see how the tramp was doing at the tasks. He had done some of the things on the list. However, he had hung the curtains up backwards and he forgot to sweep the floor before he mopped it. He sat down to read over the list again when Daisy came up to him.

"What are you doing, Charlie?"

"Readin' me list, …wha' is tha' word, Daisy?"

Daisy took the paper. "Just a minute." She ran over to her mother and asked her to read it for her.

Rebecca came over to Charlie. "It looks as though you can't read my terrible handwriting."

"It ain't turr'ble, Ma'am. Jus' couldn't figger out a couple o them words."

"Let me just read the list to you and Daisy. She can show you where things are." The tramp looked rather relieved and he listened carefully.

A bit later, Rebecca found the tramp sitting on the floor and he had the old vacuum cleaner in pieces surrounding him. He was trying to fit two pieces together without much luck. He stood and smiled when Rebecca came in the room.

"Charlie," she said, frowning. "Whatever are you doing?"

"Fixin' this machine. It don't work."

"It was fine yesterday…"

"Don't work now."

"Well, I shouldn't wonder. It's all in pieces. Can you fix it?"

"I'm doin' me bes'," said the tramp.

An hour later, Rebecca returned and the pieces were still scattered on the floor. The tramp was nowhere to be seen. She walked around and found him just outside the door, smoking.

"Charlie, aren't you going to fix the vacuum cleaner?"

"It don't work, Ma'am."

"Very well. When you're finished out here, come back inside and Daisy can show you where some of the other things are that need to be done. He nodded.

Rebecca picked up the pieces and put them in a box. She had noticed another tramp, called Bob, who was very good with fixing things, was at the shelter today. She would have employed him happily, but he was too lazy to make a commitment to work. She offered Bob a bit of money outright if he would fix the machine. He put it together in no time flat.

Rebecca found Charlie finishing up the mopping and Daisy was watching him. The tramp had just put the mop in the bucket without dumping the water first. He spied Rebecca and started to tell her what he had accomplished and he made a wide gesture with his arm, hitting the mop handle which hit him in the face and knocked over the bucket, spilling water all over the floor. In trying to catch the bucket, the tramp slipped in the water and fell on his derriere on the floor too. Daisy giggled and he flashed her a grin.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," he said, getting up. "I'll clean it up…"

"Oh, you're all wet, Charlie…clean it up and I'll wash out your clothes for you…you know where the spare clothes are that you can wear until yours are dry."

"Thank y', Ma'am. Y' very consid'rate…" When Charlie came downstairs in dry clothes, he mopped the water up. Rebecca and Bob walked over to Charlie with the vacuum few minutes later.

"Charlie, this is Bob. He put the vacuum cleaner together and we want to make sure it works."

Charlie flipped the switch. The machine did nothing. "It still don't work," said Charlie, scratching his head.

"It ain't plugged in!" said Bob. "What do ya think the electric cord is for?"

"I wonder'd if I 'ad t' do that…" Bob rolled his eyes as Charlie unwound the cord and plugged it in. The machine came on with a roar and Charlie jumped slightly. He grinned, a little embarrassed. "Thank y', Bob, it's workin' now!" he shouted over the noise.

He finished vacuuming the floor and noticed it was just before dinner time. He went up to his room to get his hat and went outside to get some air. Daisy ran after him and they sat on the bench just outside the door. But it was so cold they came back inside.

The tramp pulled out his battered tin box from his pocket and selected one of his second-hand cigarettes. He scratched a match on his shoe to light the stub.

Daisy watched him in fascination. "Wow…I never saw such a small cigarette."

The tramp smiled. "They're free, too." He inhaled a few times deeply, then put the stub out. He stood up and kicked it backwards into a wastebasket. Daisy giggled and the tramp grinned.

"Why is your hat still on, Charlie?" He looked at her, then took off his hat and rolled it down his arm, then up again. Daisy's eyes became as big as saucers. The tramp saw he was entertaining her, so he flipped his hat up in the air and it came down on his head. Daisy giggled and the tramp smiled. Then he noticed that Daisy's attention had wandered.

The tramp turned to where she was looking and saw that his cigarette had apparently not been out and had started the wastebasket full of paper on fire. He looked around quickly, ran to the closet that held the slop sink, filled the bucket with water and ran back to the wastebasket dousing it with the bucket. It put out the fire, but now there was water all over the floor. The tramp pulled out the mop again and sopped up the water.

Daisy helped the tramp put away the bucket and mop again, and just in time. Rebecca came out of her office and asked, "Do I smell smoke?"

"Charlie was real brave, Mama…he just put out a fire!"

"What?"

"It's true! The wastebasket was on fire and he put it out!"

"How did it start, Daisy?"

The little girl shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know."

"Charlie?"

"I threw me fag in there, Ma'am," the tramp said softly. "I di'nt know it ain't out."

Rebecca didn't know whether to admonish him or not. "Well, you kept the fire from spreading. That's the important thing. But please be careful…"

The tramp looked like a small boy who was being reprimanded. "I'm sorry, Ma'am."

He straightened his tie and pulled down his waistcoat over his trousers.

"The line is already forming outside, Charlie. Would you like to help us serve the food?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I c'n 'elp y'."

"Now Charlie, we're having a guest tonight to speak to our people while they eat. Daisy can show you where the serving dishes are. I need to attend to our guest speaker. Daisy?" Rebecca beckoned to Daisy and pulled her aside. "Daisy, try to make sure he doesn't break too many dishes…" The girl grinned and nodded.

Daisy liked her new friend Charlie. He was a little accident-prone, but a lot of fun. Maybe he would do some more tricks for her later on. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him over to the serving area and showed him what to do.

The tramp helped serve the homeless diners and then got his own plate and sat with Daisy and her mother to listen to the speaker. The man's name was Daniel and he was very much against "Demon Rum" as it was popularly called.

The tramp watched Daniel carefully. He was tall and stood straight as a ramrod. He had black hair, slicked down so it looked like patent leather. His long black frock coat accentuated his height. The tramp studied Daniel's serious face and memorized his actions. Most of the speaker's words went unnoticed by the tramp, so intent was he in studying the man's body language. Obviously Daniel was very sincere, but his actions were huge and dramatically overdone.

Rebecca left the room presently to attend to some newcomers and get them settled. Charlie started collecting plates and quietly took them up to the counter to the side of where Daniel was speaking. He turned around to the audience, behind where Daniel stood, and mimed Daniel's movements and facial expressions. Tittering was heard from the audience. Daniel stopped speaking for a moment, confused. He looked around and the tramp was stacking dishes. Daniel looked a bit bewildered, but started talking where he had left off.

As soon as Daniel began talking again, the tramp started miming. The audience laughed. Daniel quickly turned, again to find the tramp stacking dishes, with his back to the audience. He turned several times, whenever the laughter started and never caught the tramp doing his act. Of course he knew something was going on.

"Young man," he said to the tramp. "Please sit down while I am speaking. The audience seems to think you are funny looking." Charlie walked back to his seat, walking exactly like Daniel and the laughter started again. The tramp looked very pleased with himself.

Daniel continued his sermon without further incident. After finishing, Daniel disappeared and told Rebecca about the incident. After describing the tramp, Daniel wanted to know if she knew the little interloper.

Rebecca laughed and said, "Yes, I know him. He's not a bad sort, just tends to get into a bit of innocent trouble once in a while."

"If there's any more of this frivolity from him, my advice would be to throw him out, homeless or not!"

"I can't do that. I gave him a job yesterday, that's why he was helping with the dishes…"

"Madame, I have to be taken seriously to get my points across to those people. I don't need any little self-appointed comedian getting laughs from my sermons."

"Perhaps these people would listen more if you put a bit of humour into your speeches…"

"Madame, I shall not be coming back to speak to your crowd if I am being made fun of. You can decide…do you want my sermons and my financial support? If you do, that little tramp can just go somewhere else to eat free and he can mock someone else!"

"Isn't that a bit harsh, Sir?" He left in a huff. Rebecca shrugged her shoulders and decided to talk to the tramp. She didn't want him to be out on the street again. She personally had witnessed a bit of the tramp's "show" earlier when she had peeked through a window and seen the tramp's miming and it had made her laugh too. The tramp was very funny. But there was no arguing with Daniel, the reason being that he was one of the biggest donors to the mission, and his opinions needed to be respected. If he weren't a big donor, Rebecca would not have asked him back after his very first fire-and-brimstone sermon. She felt bad that money had to be a factor.

The dishes had been washed by the rest of the crew and the tramp was busy sweeping the floor. Rebecca pulled him aside. "Charlie, were you making fun of our speaker earlier?"

"No! I woul' no' do tha', Ma'am."

"Then what were you doing?"

"Jus' adding' a li'l 'umour to 'is talkin'…"

"I saw some of it; Charlie, it was funny, but Daniel doesn't like it. So don't do it again, please?"

The tramp smiled. "I do like y' say, Ma'am…"

"By the way, you're doing a great job…the halls looked splendid today."

"Thank y', Ma'am." The tramp looked pleased.

When all the work was done, and the dormitory was filled, the tramp turned out the lights in the dining hall. Everything was working out very well for him, he thought. He had a good job, a place to eat and sleep and was making some friends.


	4. The Tramp's Fairy Tale

Chapter 4 - The Tramp's Fairy Tale

The next morning, Charles Michael O'Sullivan awoke in his usual bad temper. There was a bell pull for the butler right next to his canopy bed. He pulled on it and Templeton appeared momentarily.

"Templeton, tell the valet I am ready to be dressed."

"Very good, sir." The valet arrived in a few minutes. Michael sat in a chair for as much of the procedure as possible, for it was very hard for him to stand up for any length of time. As the valet was attaching the calf garters to Michael's left leg, one could see the wide purple/red scar that went from Michael's knee to almost his ankle along the outside of the left leg. This injury was the reason for the severe pain in Michael' leg. Standing with the aid of his ebony cane, Michael waited as the valet buttoned his suspenders to his trousers over his white shirt and collar. The valet tied the tie for him then put the dark waistcoat on and buttoned it for Michael. He helped him on with his formal frock coat. The valet put the expensive leather boots on Michael and tied them.

Then the valet helped Michael down the stairs to breakfast. Michael always dressed in expensive clothes, as did his mother. Michael's mother and Annie were already seated at the table, waiting for him. After he seated himself, a pretty red-haired maid appeared bringing out plates of food. "Who's the new maid, Mother?"

"Michael, this is Moira. I just hired her yesterday. Moira, this is my son, Michael." The girl curtsied and smiled. "Pleased to meet ye, sir." She had a soft Irish brogue and a lovely smile. She finished serving, and as she passed him, he pinched her arm. She frowned and walked away hurriedly. His mother hadn't seen it.

As they were finishing breakfast, Michael's mother said, "Michael, I've been thinking…The fact that you've been terminated by the theatre company, perhaps that's not a bad thing."

"Mother, I don't want to talk about that."

"Michael, listen to me. I have some friends who can set you up as head of a certain philanthropic association. You would have to attend meetings, of course and do a few other things, but not much, and that should appeal to your, well, to put it bluntly, your lazy nature."

"Attend meetings?" said Michael, frowning. "Oh, I _live_ to attend meetings!" he said sarcastically.

Annie, sensing there might be an argument, excused herself and went upstairs, to ready herself for school.

"You could do worse. Don't you want to do something useful with your life?"

"I don't know, Mother! Who cares?"

"I do, Michael…But why do I bother? Do what you want." She threw down her napkin and left the table. Michael finished eating and Moira came out to take away the dishes. He really liked her looks. She noticed he was eyeing her.

"Is there anything I can get ye, sir?" she asked.

"Yes. Can you come here a moment? I dropped my cane under the table and I can't reach it. Would you reach it for me?"

"Certainly, sir." She had to crawl on her hands and knees under the table to reach it. He got to his feet and as she stood up to hand him the cane, he, most unexpectedly, grabbed her tightly and kissed her on the mouth. She was very surprised. He wouldn't let her go, his arms around her. She struggled but he kept kissing her until she kicked him, luckily for her, in his bad leg.

Surprised, Michael yelled a few choice word and let her go. She ran from the room. He lost his balance and in trying to sit down on the chair, instead ended up on the floor, the chair pushed over too far to help himself up again and he was just a bit too far away from the table. The ebony cane was out of reach again. He lay on the floor, his leg folded under him in agony, until someone would enter the room again and help him up.

* * *

Daisy was rather entranced with the little tramp because he played with her and when the springtime came, he took her on long walks on his off time. He took her to the skating rink, the park, the pool, the playground or to a movie.

Daisy thought he was rather cute too. He was always up to something when his eyes twinkled. His actions were quick and graceful and often done with a bit of a flourish. She never tired of watching him and he showed off for her too…like the time he danced around with his mop…of course he stepped backwards into the pail of water, which made Daisy shriek with laughter. Then he fell down with the pail on his foot. She helped him get it off and soon they were both soaked and laughing.

One evening, Daisy brought Charlie a book and asked him to read her the story. They sat down on a couch in the large public sitting room and he opened the book. He looked intently at the book and flipped through the pages.

The tramp hesitated. Reading was not one of his better skills. "Wha' if I jus' tell yer a story?"

"Yes, Charlie!" said Daisy, clapping her hands. "That's even better!" It was a lot of fun to be told a story by Charlie because he mimed all the characters and did all their voices, including the animals.

The tramp got her comfortable and put a pillow behind her and a blanket around her. This is the story he told:

_Once upon a time there lived a beautiful princess. She looked a lot like you, with beautiful red hair and big green eyes. She lived all alone by herself in a thatched hut in the middle of the forest. Only the animals were her friends. She had been stolen from her parents, the king and queen of the land, by a very mean and evil fairy. The fairy wanted to steal the kingdom ever since before the princess was born. The princess' parents were very sad ever since she had been stolen from them and they tried without success to find out who had stolen the baby and where she was._

_Finally they despaired of ever finding out where the tiny princess was. Years went by and the princess lived in the hut without ever seeing anyone except the animals and the evil fairy. The evil fairy didn't look evil, she had long black curly hair and dark eyes, and as long as one didn't look deeply into her eyes, she seemed very beautiful. The evil fairy wanted the princess to acquire as many bad habits as possible so she couldn't become queen even if she were found. For the kingdom would never have a queen who had horrible bad habits._

_She started out by teaching the princess to always wear dirty underwear to bed. She told her never to brush her teeth or wash behind her ears. Then she told her to always lie to get her own way. The evil fairy taught her to be selfish and to steal whatever she could. Not having any friends and living alone, there were not many chances to try out her new evil skills. So the evil fairy took her into town, dressed her in rags and told her to have fun, trying to do as much evil as possible. The little girl became very adept at stealing things from shops and she learned how to lie about it so that no one suspected._

_So happy that she had pleased the evil fairy (whom she did not know was evil), the princess, who now looked very ugly, being dirty and smelly and having scraggly hair, her teeth about to fall out, was acquiring an evil soul. It was more filthy and disgusting from her evil deeds than her body ever could be. She acquired a snivelling and nasty voice, just to please the evil fairy._

_She was used to the evil fairy smiling at her and praising her for her evil deeds. But she noticed the animals didn't like her any more. They all stayed away. Then one day a very handsome boy, the same age as the formerly beautiful princess came to the door of the thatched hut in the forest. Very happy to have some company, she opened the door and smiled at him. He backed off from the offensive-looking princess and mumbled, "Must be the wrong house." He fled from the house. The princess had no idea how horrible she looked, for the evil fairy wouldn't let her have any mirrors in the house, little wonder! She started wondering why he had fled so quickly._

_One day, not long after, the princess was looking through an old trunk full of beautiful clothes. She wanted to try them on for they looked like her size. She looked again for a mirror. Pulling out all the clothes from the trunk, at last she found an hand mirror in the bottom. She had last seen her reflection several years ago, before the evil fairy had taught her to do evil. So when she looked in the mirror, instead of a lovely young princess with beautiful red curls and green eyes, she saw a nasty looking young lady with a dirty face, her teeth turning green, bags under her eyes and a nasty look on her face. Her hair was so tangled and dirty she couldn't even get a comb through it. She jumped back in horror and the looking-glass dropped to the floor, breaking in a million pieces._

_The princess was so horrified to think that she looked so ugly, that she ran out of the house and didn't stop running until it was dark and she had lost her way in the dark forest. Cold and frightened, she huddled against a tree. She fell asleep, but felt a gentle touch on her back as she slept. Opening her eyes, the bright moonlight shone through the forest and illuminated the patch of ground where the princess sat. She turned and saw that the tree she was sitting beneath was gently stroking her back. It was making a low humming sound. At first frightened, for she had never seen a tree move without the wind blowing, she gradually became calm. She said to the tree, "Why are you being kind to me? I have only done evil to those about me."_

_The tree continued to hum, not replying. Then a bluebird flew down and landed on the princess' shoulder. "Hello, my lovely princess," he said._

"_I am not lovely," said the princess. "I am quite hideous."_

"_Your soul has become stained with evil, it is true," said the bluebird. But it is not too late to turn back. If you repent and do good to all those around you, your soul will soon be as lovely as your face."_

"_But my face is extremely hideous!"_

"_Not true. Go and wash in the pool and then when the water becomes quiet, look at your face again."_

_The princess did as the bluebird bade her. When the pool stilled, all the dirt had been washed away and the princess was as lovely as ever, the knots gone from her hair, the dirt gone from her face and teeth and her skin soft and clean. As she smiled she became more beautiful. She decided to start treating everyone well, no matter who they were or what the evil fairy said._

_She fed the animals in the forest and took home several injured squirrels and rabbits to care for them. Then she started to sing an happy song. She had not felt like singing since the evil fairy had helped her to learn evil ways._

_One day an old man came by, leaning on a crutch and having sores on his arms and legs. The princess was at first horrified, but she remembered her promise to help everyone. She washed his sores and gave him food. She patched his clothes and his shoes. She gave him her bed and sang him to sleep. She fell asleep and in the morning, watching the old man sleep, saw his features turn into a young and handsome prince, the same one who had recoiled from her in horror some time ago._

"_Why, it's you…" said the princess. "Why are you not fleeing from me in horror?"_

"_Your soul has become beautiful. You are kind and gentle again. You have love within you, not evil. I was recoiling from the evil that I saw in you. I was not recoiling from your face, which, while your features were never ugly, were contorted with the evil in your soul. Come with me now to the kingdom where you will come into your true inheritance."_

_The prince took the princess away to the castle, where she was reunited with her parents. The king and queen were overjoyed to see the princess. The prince and princess were wed and the kingdom would be inherited by the young couple when the proper time would come._

_However, the evil fairy was still in the woods. When she saw that the princess had fled, she became enraged and set the cottage on fire with her anger. She screamed and vowed she would become the kingdom's ruler by hook or by crook. The flames leaped up around her and soon she was no more but an angry red pile of ashes in the middle of the burned out cottage._

"So what's the moral of the story, Charlie?" asked Daisy.

"Yer tell me," said Charlie.

"I don't know," she answered.

"If yer are of a evil bent, it's sure t' show on yer face, even if yer wearin' purdy clothes, bu' if yer good insoide, yer face will be beautiful too. Yer soul shoines through yer eyes." said Charlie.

"Charlie, it was a great story! But why don't you ever read to me?"

He didn't say anything.

"I bet I know, Charlie, you don't know how to read."

He rubbed his face with his hands. "Well…"

"I have a great idea!" Daisy smiled. "You know that I don't go to school…Mommy teaches me here. So…I can get her to teach you too!"

"No, no, Daisy, don't tell yer Mum…"

"Why not?" Just then Rebecca came over to them. She saw the book and smiled.

"Have you been reading to Daisy?" She picked up the book. "This is a good one."

"Mommy, Charlie can't read. He wants you to teach him when you teach me!"

"Charlie, is that true?" He didn't answer.

"Charlie?"

"Well…"

"Daisy, come here…" She took Daisy aside. "I think you've embarrassed him, Daisy. That's not nice."

"But he needs to know how to read, Mommy. You told me everyone needs to know how to read."

"Let me talk to him, Daisy. Take your book and go play with some of the new kids." Daisy ran off.

"Charlie, I'm sorry if she embarrassed you…Daisy is always so helpful but she's not terribly tactful."

The tramp smiled. "It's awright. She din't mean no 'arm."

She patted his arm. "I'll tell her not to bring it up again."

"No, wait, Ma'am…truth is…I c'n read a bi', bu' it takes me a long toime t' read a book…an' I can't see them li'l letters neither."

"Maybe you need reading glasses, Charlie. Did you ever have spectacles?" He shook his head. "Let's take you to get some glasses soon. Oh, and did you want to brush up on your reading when I teach Daisy? I would be glad to tutor you, too…if you wouldn't be embarrassed being in a class with a child…"

"Couldja do tha' Ma'am? Couldja teach me t' read loike a eddicated fella?"

"Certainly, Charlie. Let's start tomorrow after we find you some specs!" He smiled and stood to shake her hand.


	5. One Fateful Day

Chapter 5 One Fateful Day

The winter months passed slowly and the tramp was glad he had a warm place to stay, for the winter was extremely cold and snowy. He worked hard at his job even though sometimes things "happened" but Rebecca was forgiving because she knew he didn't upset the flow of work on purpose. He just had the knack of doing things a little ineptly and backwards.

One day Charlie was busy mopping the floors with Daisy sitting near him, petting Charlotte. Daisy talked a lot and the tramp enjoyed listening to her. She stopped talking for a bit and stared at him, then blurted out, "Are you going to marry my Mommy?"

The tramp frowned and looked at her oddly. "Why woul'ja say tha', Daisy?"

Daisy smiled and batted her eyes. "She's real pretty isn't she?"

The tramp was a trifle embarrassed that the child would say that. He did think that Rebecca was beautiful and elegant, and he loved to look at her, and perhaps dream, but he didn't feel himself worthy of even asking her for a date, let alone proposing marriage.

"Daisy, yer Mum's a foine lady…."

"And you're real handsome, Charlie…..my Mommy likes you, you know…." Daisy batted her eyes again.

"Now y' jus' put them thin's outa yer moind, me lit 'tle lady…"

"Wouldn't you like to have me for a daughter?"

Charlie smiled. "Ah, tha's wha' y' gittin' at…Daisy, y' practic'ly _are_ me daughter…we spend all our toime t'gether…"

"Not the same. I'll talk to Mama about it…" She started to walk away to find her mother.

"No…no, don' do tha'!" The tramp grabbed her arm and knelt down to look her straight in the eye. "Promise me y' won' do tha'…please…"

Daisy looked disappointed. "You don't like my Mama?"

"No, it ain't tha'…" he hugged the little girl close. "Y'll unde'stan' when yer older…"

"Hmmm. I will never understand old people."

"Yer Mum an' I ain't old, Daisy."

The girl just smiled.

That night, the tramp had a hard time falling asleep. He kept thinking about Rebecca and Daisy…

* * *

The next day, after the morning chores were done, the tramp looked outside. It was a lovely spring day and he told Rebecca he was going for a walk. Rebecca told him to take the whole day if he wanted. He had been working hard without much time off and with the warmer weather, there wouldn't be as many people in need. Besides, Rebecca had quite a few other volunteers. Daisy begged to go along with him and they both left the mission. The day was a far cry from the day the tramp had come to the mission last winter, half frozen.

He had found a bow tie and a new set of clothes among the donated items at the mission. He felt quite dapper in his clothes, which for once had no holes, tears or patches. He twirled his bamboo cane in one hand and held on to Daisy with the other. She was dressed in a mauve dress with matching hat and jacket, a miniature of the type of clothes her mother often wore. Her hat was trimmed with flowers.

Just as they were walking down the steps, Daisy said, "Wait a minute, Charlie, I want to get something." She ran inside and came out with a carnation from her mother's vase of flowers. She broke the stem off so it was a bit shorter and made Charlie bend down so she could put it in his buttonhole.

"Thank y' Ma'am. I'm a propa gen'lman now!"

"You're welcome, Charlie; you look very handsome!"

"An' yer, me foine lady, y'are a vision o' lov'liness!" He tipped his hat to her. Daisy smiled and took his hand again.

He took Daisy to the park where they walked by the fountains and the lush gardens with every colour and species of flower that one could think of. They passed the roller skating rink.

"Daisy, mybe another day, I'll take y' over to th' rink and we c'n roller skate…y' loike tha'?"

"That would be fun, Charlie!"

"T'day, me foine lady, I go' a bi' o' change…'ow would y' like t' take a boat ride on the water?"

"Oh a boat ride would be fun!"

The tramp and the girl had a wonderful time in the park. They spent almost the whole day there. They had a lovely boat ride on the lagoon, then they ran through the park and even climbed a tree. Daisy tore her pretty dress a little and knew that Rebecca would not be pleased about that. Then Charlie took out his pocket watch. It's late…after six o'clock…"

"Can we stay longer? I want to see the ducks on the lagoon. I even brought some leftovers to feed them." She pulled out a small bag from her pocket.

The tramp smiled. He nodded. He watched her feed the birds. Then she came back and sat with the tramp on the park bench. He put his arm around her. It almost seemed as if she were his daughter. He wished that she were…For some reason, his eyes felt heavy and he closed them for just a moment…

* * *

Earlier that evening, Charles Michael O'Sullivan had sneaked out a side door of the mansion so his mother wouldn't see him. He took his daughter Annie along with him. They were picked up by one of his friends in an elegant chauffeured car.

"Daddy, why didn't we tell Grandma where we are going?"

"Because it's none of her business."

"Where are we going?"

"Out to eat with some of my old friends. You've met them before."

Annie sighed. They were the most boring people she had ever met. All they did was laugh and talk and drink.

"Will there be any other kids there?"

"Probably not. Why?"

"Just wondered."

"Don't you like to come along with me for dinner, Anna? If you don't, I won't bother to take you next time."

"I like being with you, Daddy," she smiled. He put his arm around her and pulled her closer. She liked it when he was affectionate.

They went to a very expensive restaurant to meet Michael's friends. He announced when he came in that he would pay for everything including the drinks.

Close to twenty-five people were at the dinner, mostly men, a few had brought girlfriends. Poor Annie, of course, was bored to death. Her father forgot all about her and didn't say a word to her during supper.

After dinner, the crowd became rather loud and rowdy. A few left early. Annie sat down by herself at a table in a corner and amused herself by drawing on a paper napkin. Then she saw one of the girlfriends come over to her and sit down.

The woman was very tall and slender with blonde hair pulled up in an elegant style and she wore a long blue satin gown with pearls and matching heels. She smiled and her blue eyes looked kind. "You're Annie, correct? Mike's daughter?"

Annie nodded.

"You look a little bored. There aren't any other children here. Do you want to talk to me? I'm bored, too. My boyfriend is having a good time with his friends and your Dad, but I feel left out too." She smiled, trying to empathise with the child.

"Yes, I am very bored. I don't like most of Daddy's friends. They're no fun."

"Is your Dad ever fun, Annie?"

"Not too much."

"I asked because I have met him before and he always seems angry."

"He and Grandma always fight. I don't like that either. He's mean to her and me too sometimes." She looked up at the woman. "You're pretty. What's your name?"

"It's Camille. What does he do that's mean, Annie?"

"Well, he yells and throws things at Grandma. He can't get up too quick because he has a crippled leg."

"What does he do to you?"

"Just yells mostly. I like him when he's nice…."

"Is he nice to you a lot? Do you do fun things together?"

"Not too much. I don't know why he brought me here tonight."

"I don't know why my boyfriend brought me here tonight either, Annie. I'm bored too."

Camille looked over at the crowd. "My boyfriend's ready to go; He'll be calling for his car to pick us up. Maybe I'll see you again. You're a very nice little girl."

"And you're a nice lady," said Annie. Camille ran to take her boyfriend's arm. Annie watched Camille's date call from the phone booth and they left together, Camille giving Annie a wink and a wave.

Annie sighed and glanced at her father. He was still laughing and talking loudly with the few men that were still left. Annie went over to Michael and tugged on his sleeve. "Are we going home soon?" she asked.

"What time is it, Annie?"

"Look at your pocket watch, Daddy."

He pulled out and looked at it several different ways. Finally he showed it to Annie. "What's it say, Annie?"

"It says one o'clock in the morning, Daddy. It's past my bedtime."

"All right. Let's go…" Annie helped him put on his Inverness cape and top hat. She put on her coat and hat too. She gave him her arm like she had seen Camille do. He had a hard time with the steps, but finally they were outside.

The friend who had given Michael and Annie a ride earlier had forgotten to wait for them. Michael didn't remember to ask someone else for a ride and he didn't call home either for Georg to come and get them. He had had too much to drink and was rather disoriented. He took off limping down the street.

Soon they were lost and neither one had any idea where they were. Suddenly Michael was sick to his stomach from too much rich food and drink. Soon he didn't think he could stand up any longer. His leg was throbbing badly. He leaned against a wall. They were only a few blocks away from the restaurant, but they could have been miles away. Michael had no idea where they were. And Annie had just followed her father, thinking he knew where he was going.

Annie gave her father her hand. In the moonlight and illuminated by the street lamps, she thought he looked a strange colour. They were walking past an alley paved with cobblestones and they just reached a fence when he slipped on the cobblestones and fell.

He was laying on the ground, groaning, and Annie was scared. "Daddy, are you okay?"

He opened his eyes. "Do I look okay, Anna? I can't get up!" he said sharply. "I'm in a lot of pain..can you help me sit up?" She started to cry.

"Oh, don't start that crying again!" said Michael roughly.

She pulled on his arm and between them, they got him sitting up with his back to the fence. Annie was worried. He was breathing heavily.

She put her arm around his back and rubbed it gently for him. Michael smiled…He really loved Annie and he knew he wasn't very nice to her sometimes. He pulled her up on his good leg and covered her with his cloak, putting his arm around her. The night was getting a bit chilly. A front was coming through and it looked like rain. Michael felt the cold too. It was so late that Annie fell asleep. Michael fell asleep too. His head fell back against the fence.


	6. Confusion

Chapter 6 - Confusion

A chilly wind was blowing when the tramp and his little friend finally awoke. He heard voices in the distance. He felt disoriented. They must have slept for hours in the park. He heard Daisy stirring. She was sitting on his right leg. He made a move to get up, but couldn't; there was a horrendous pain in his left leg. What was wrong? And they weren't in the park anymore, they were in an alley. Daisy stood up and rubbed her eyes. Then she looked down at her friend.

"Who are you, Mister? Did you see where my friend Charlie went?" She started to panic, wondering where he had gone.

"Daisy, what are y' talkin' about'? It's me, Charlie…"

Daisy recognized her friend's soft voice and English accent. "You sound like Charlie, but you don't look like him."

"Daisy, stop talkin' nonsense…can y' elp me up, me leg is painin' me somethin' bloody awful."

"Who are you, Mister?"

"Pardon me? Daisy, it's me….Jus' ge' me th' cane. That'll 'elp."

She brought over a fancy ebony cane. He looked at it curiously. "That ain't me cane…"

He tried again with the aid of the cane. "No use, Daisy, I can't get up."

Just then two men came over to them. "Miss Anna," said one of them in an English accent. "Pick up his cane and hat, please. Georg, get on the other side." Between the two men, they pulled the tramp to his feet and walked him slowly over to the waiting car.

The tramp realized he was drunk and sick at his stomach. He couldn't figure out how that had happened. And the horrendous pain in his left leg… He was breathing heavily. He felt taller, somehow. This must all be a bizarre nightmare.

"Are you sure it's you, Charlie?" whispered Daisy as they got in the car.

"I'm beginnin' t' wonder meself…" He turned to Daisy and smiled. She recognized his smile as well as his voice. "It's really me, Daisy. Bu' I can't say 'ow I go' this way." He glanced at her. "Yer 'air ain't curly no more."

Daisy touched her hair. It was long and straight as a stick.

"Where are we goin'?" spoke up Charlie in a louder voice.

"Home, Sir."

The tramp looked at Daisy and she looked at him and they both shrugged their shoulders.

Arriving at a huge mansion, Daisy and Charlie were amazed that this was "home." The two servants helped Charlie out of the car and brought him into the parlour. Daisy followed. The servants closed the pocket doors and Daisy was left alone with Charlie. They sat looking at each other for a minute.

"Charlie, that whole wall is a looking glass. You better take a look at yourself…"

Charlie put down the top hat and stood up with the help of the cane. He took off the cloak and limped over to the mirrored wall. He stood looking at himself from several angles and again thought this _had_ to be a nightmare. He was probably about six foot two inches in stature. He had always been very thin and small boned, and used to being quick and graceful, he now looked big-boned and slightly overweight. He looked closely at his eyes…they were light blue, not his own dark, almost violet blue. His moustache was larger and his hair had no trace of grey and was plastered down with hair oil.

He wondered what was wrong with his leg. It felt like nerve pain, the whole left leg felt like it was on fire. He was afraid it would buckle under him. And he felt drunk, too. Drunk and sick at his stomach.

He went back to the settee and sat down carefully. Daisy put the footstool under his left leg then sat beside him and put her arm around him.

"Charlie, you used to be so skinny that I could put my arms around you and have extra to spare."

He laughed. "'Ope we wake up soon. I don' loike this nightmare…" He paused. "Daisy, c'n y' roll up the trousers on me lef' leg, an' see if there is anythin' t' see?"

Daisy did so, then gasped, "Your leg is all red and purple on the side...it looks horrible!"

Just then, there was the sound of the pocket door opening and closing and a small woman came in the room, dressed in a nightgown and robe.

"Michael, I was so worried! And you had the child with you…I am thankful Templeton and Georg found you!"

"We're foine, Ma'am…"

"Fine indeed, Michael! It's two o'clock in the morning and Templeton tells me that he and Georg found you laying in an alley! An alley, Michael! Like a common drunk! And poor Anna with you…you'll be the death of me yet…"

"Sorry, Ma'am…didn't mean no 'arm."

"What are you talking about, Michael?"

"I dunno, Ma'am." said the tramp, really confused. "Bu' I 'ave a r'quest…"

"What is it, Michael?"

"Ma'am…I need somethin' fer me stomach. I'm feelin' bloody turrible."

"I'll ring for Templeton. He'll bring you something." She rang for the butler and he returned shortly with a fizzing drink that made Charlie feel better quickly.

"You're acting stranger than usual, Michael. Where were you?"

"Daisy and me went to th' park this afternoon; 'ad a boat roide, we ran abou' th' park an' cloimbed a tree; later we were lookin' at th' stars…" He looked at the woman, who obviously did not believe him.

"Michael, really, you climbing a tree? With your painful leg? I think you had better get to bed. Obviously you're not yourself. Come along, Anna."

"Where are you takin' 'er?"

"To her bedroom, Michael."

"No, no I wan' 'er t' stay wi' me…" He was afraid she might disappear if she were anywhere else. This evening had proved to be so strange, he didn't want to take any chances.

"Very well. But we are going to talk in the morning, Michael." She called for Templeton again, who gave Charlie his arm and helped him up the steps.

"Would you like me to call the valet to help with your night clothes or shall I come back later?" asked Templeton.

"Where are me noight clothes?" The butler opened the closet door and removed a night shirt. "Thank y' koindly," said the tramp.

The tramp changed clothes behind a screen and Daisy came back from the other room in her nightgown.

"Why don't y' take th' bed an' I'll take th' chaise lounge, Daisy."

"I think I should take the chaise lounge and you should take the bed." She indicated the huge four-poster canopy bed. "I'm littler, Charlie, remember? And you're a lot taller than you used to be. I don't think you are going to fit on the chaise lounge. Your legs would hang over."

He smiled. "Yeah, I guess yer roigh'…" He sat down on the bed and Daisy climbed up to fluff the pillows. She jumped down again and leaned over to give him a hug and a kiss. She blew out the lamp and settled down on the chaise lounge with an extra blanket.

* * *

An hour earlier that evening, Michael and his daughter Annie were sitting in the grass, in the park, their backs against a park bench, both sleeping. Annie woke up first and glanced over at her father. Seeing a little, skinny stranger in odd clothing instead of her tall, heavyset father, she stood up and backed away a bit. Michael stirred and opened his eyes.

"Annie, where are we? Help me up!"

"Who are you?" Annie was scared and wondered where her father had gone. She also couldn't figure out how she had arrived at the park, sitting next to a stranger.

"I'm your father!" he said crossly. "Annie, help me up!"

"You don't look like you need any help…"

He realized his leg didn't hurt at all, in fact, he felt very good. He stood up and ran his hand over his formerly flabby belly. It was flat and a bit muscular. He had on odd clothing, clean but ill fitting. There was a derby on his head and a bamboo cane sitting on the bench. He picked it up and looked at it curiously.

Michael turned to look at Annie, who was still standing a few steps away. "What happened to your hair?" Her red hair was short and curly. She touched it and shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know the way home…who are you anyway?" asked the frightened little girl.

Just then a policeman, walking his beat, came over to the two. He sized up the man who looked like a tramp. The little girl was dressed nicely, but with a large tear in her dress. "What's going on here?" he asked.

"Officer, for some odd reason, we're lost."

"I can point you in the right direction…where are you going?"

"I live just outside of town, Officer. I'm Charles Michael O'Sullivan and this is my daughter, Anna."

The officer laughed. "That's a good one. I've met Mr O'Sullivan and you're not him! I'll take you over to the Homeless Mission…there's a police car nearby.."

"No, no! Take me home, I'm Charles Michael O'Sullivan, I tell you!"

"Would you rather I take you in for vagrancy, Mister?"

"No…alright, we'll go with you, but this won't be the last you hear from me! Your Captain will be apprised of this shortly!"

"Come on, buddy, over here." He took Michael's arm and led him to the police car, making him sit in the back. He stopped a moment to speak to Annie. "Is this your father?"

"I'm…not sure…"

"It's either yes or no, little girl…"

She couldn't figure out how her father had gotten shorter and so skinny, but he was acting very much like her father, with his arrogant way, maybe…"

"Yeah, I guess he is…"

Arriving very late at the Mission, the policeman rang the bell. Rebecca appeared at the door, looking upset. "Oh thank goodness, you're home!" She opened the door to let them in and thanked the kind officer.

"Charlie, Daisy, where have you been? I was about to report you both as missing!" Both of them looked at her confusedly. Rebecca looked at Michael's daughter. "Daisy, how did you tear your dress? Where did you two go…Charlie, I don't like Daisy staying out so late…I was really sure something terrible had happened to both of you…."

"I don't know what you're talking about, lady. I'd like to go home with my daughter but for some odd reason that officer refused and brought me here. His Captain will be hearing from me tomorrow."

It was Rebecca's turn to be confused. His voice sounded different, he had lost the charming English accent and sounded rude and abrasive.

"Charlie, what are you talking about…Daisy is _my_ daughter."

"Your daughter indeed, that's ridiculous. And why are you calling her Daisy? Her name is Anna."

"Of course you're right. Her name is Anna, but we've always called her Daisy."

"Really?" he said, snobbishly. "I suppose you don't recognize me as Charles Michael O'Sullivan either. And I am to be called Mr O'Sullivan, not Charlie!"

Rebecca laughed. "Charlie, don't be silly. I've seen pictures of Mr O'Sullivan in the paper. You don't look like him at all. Another thing, he is said to have a badly crippled leg. I don't see anything wrong with yours. Just go to bed, Charlie. We'll talk in the morning."

She started up the steps to her apartment, Michael and Annie following her. He stood looking confused at the top of the steps. Rebecca took Annie's hand and pulled her into her room. "Charlie, your room is on the 2nd floor, Room C, don't you remember? Down one flight," said Rebecca, indicating the room she had let Charlie use since he had become an volunteer employee.

Michael was confused and angry at having to stay at the mission, but he found the room anyway and went in. He sat on the bed. It was furnished very plainly. There was a full length mirror on the closet door and he caught a glimpse of himself. He stared in disbelief. He went closer to the looking-glass.

He was very thin, but with muscles in his chest and arms, not of a person who works out to develop great sets of muscles, but of a man who works hard. His hair was curly and wild with a bit of gray and his eyes were darker blue than his own. His moustache was small, square and well trimmed. He was short of stature and small boned. It was very odd, however it had happened.

Michael felt light on his feet, without the horrendous pain in his leg. After looking at himself a bit more in front of the mirror, he realized how tired he was and, there being no servants to help him undress, he threw his hat, coat and cane on a chair, kicked his shoes off, lay down on the bed and fell asleep with the rest of his clothes still on.

* * *

The following morning, Michael heard a knock on his door. He opened his eyes to an unfamiliar place, then remembered the odd happenings of the day before. "Come in," he said.

It was Rebecca. She had a mop and bucket in her hand. "Charlie, come on, get up. There's a lot of work to be done today. Someone spilled food all over the dormitory floor and I'd like you to clean it up right away, please."

Michael jumped out of bed and came over to the door. "Are you out of your mind, woman? Get some of the tramps who live here to do that. I'm not your servant!"

"Charlie, whatever has gotten into you?"

"Where's my daughter?"

"If you're talking about Daisy, she's helping me in the kitchen. You can come down and talk to her while she's working."

"What do you mean, my daughter is working? And I don't like you calling her 'Daisy'. That's a stupid name."

"Well, Mr Big Shot, I'll just get someone else to do your job, if you won't. But that means you'll have to move out of this room and sleep in the dormitory."

"What! Give up this palatial room?" he said sarcastically. "When's breakfast? I'm hungry."

"Breakfast is over. Daisy can get you some leftovers. Come downstairs to the dining room…there are still a few people finishing up."

"Have it delivered up here, lady. I don't want to come down there and associate with those filthy people."

"Well, then you'll have to starve, Charlie." She slammed the door in his face and ran down the stairs. The little tramp was showing a side of his personality she didn't like. Almost like a dual personality…very odd indeed. He did seem to be convinced that he was someone else.

Michael's friends had always called him Mike, for his middle name. The only people who addressed Mike as Michael were his mother and the servants.

Mike went down for breakfast anyway and Annie served him. "Annie, let's go home after breakfast," he whispered.

"I'm going to stay here, Daddy." She had finally decided that he must be her father, even though he didn't look like him. He was rude and arrogant and his voice and facial expressions were exactly like her father.

He scowled at her. "Why do you want to stay here?"

"Rebecca treats me nice. And I don't mind helping out here. I found out she teaches Daisy herself. So I wouldn't have go out anywhere to school, just here…"

Mike adopted a gentler tone. "You know, Annie, she looks exactly like your mother. Could be her twin."

"Really?"

"Yes. By the way, why do you let them call you Daisy? That's a stupid name."

"I don't think so. Besides I want them to think I'm Rebecca's daughter. I like her."

Well, I'm going home. I can't say I want to see your grandmother, but home is home. I'll be by to pick you up later. I want to get out of these ridiculous clothes and find something decent to wear."

"What are you going to tell Grandma?"

"Who cares…I'll try to stay out of her way."

Although he hadn't walked so far in ages, Mike started out from the Mission to his own mansion on the edge of town. It was probably five miles, but surprisingly he was not tired when he arrived. Obviously the tramp was in good shape and used to walking.

Mike rapped on the door with the knocker. Templeton opened the door. "Let me in, Templeton," he said as the tall butler blocked the doorway.

"The servant's kitchen is around the back, Sir. The mistress has made provision for handing out food…"

"Templeton, will you let me in?" said Mike irritably.

"I'm sorry, Sir…"

"Then tell my mother to get out here; I want to talk to her."

"Your mother?"

"Yes, Mrs O'Sullivan…hurry up!"

Templeton closed the door and a few minutes later, Mike's mother appeared at the door. "Yes?" she said.

"Well, let me in, Mother."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Don't you recognize me?"

"No."

"I'm your son, Charles Michael O'Sullivan! What's the matter with you?"

"I don't think so; my son is in the parlour at the present moment…"

"He's an impostor!" yelled the little man.

"Look, whoever you are, I will call the police if you don't stop this nonsense. If you want a handout, go around to the back. The servants will be very happy to get you whatever you want."

Finally realizing he was defeated for the moment, Mike turned rudely and went around to the back. He found Moira working there and he asked for a handout. She told him to sit at the table and she brought him some food. He ate his food all the time eyeing Moira. She got the creepy feeling that he somehow reminded her of the Master, especially the day he had grabbed her in the dining room. She went to get one of the male servants to stay in the kitchen with her while Mike ate. He had no chance to grab her this time.


	7. His Mum

Chapter 7 - His Mum

That same morning, Daisy, Charlie's friend and Rebecca's real daughter, woke up first. She glanced over at the tramp. He was still sleeping, so she didn't wake him. She folded up her blanket and dressed in one of the other rooms of the suite. She idly started looking at things in the bedroom. She looked out the window. It was a beautiful day and she wished she and Charlie could take a walk. But she wasn't sure he could walk very far any more.

Then there was a knock on the door. She ran to open it and it was the older woman of the previous night. She was carrying a glass of something fizzy. "Is your father still sleeping?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Do you want me to wake him?"

"No, sit down, Anna." She placed the glass on the bedside table and gently woke the tramp.

He awoke, a bit disoriented and with a terrible headache. He sat up in bed and put his hand to his head, frowning. "I 'ave a meself a bad 'eadache…" he said.

"Before you say anything else, I've brought you something for your head…or shall we call it what it is…a hangover?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You don't need to call me Ma'am, I'm your Mother."

Charlie looked at her in surprise. "Me Mum?"

"Yes. And ever since you came home last night, you have been speaking in that very odd English accent. Did the theatre company take you back? Are you preparing for a play?"

"No…" The tramp was stunned that the woman thought she was his mother. He pulled off the covers and put on his robe. Daisy put his slippers on for him. He sat down in a chair across from his "mother."

"Thank y, Daisy," said the tramp. He turned to the woman. "I seem to 'ave los' me mem' ry, Ma'am…eh…Mum. Can yer 'elp me r'member a few things?"

"You must have hit your head when you fell last night, Michael. But I must say, you have been very nice since then; perhaps it was a fortunate accident. What don't you remember?"

"I don't remember nothin'. An' yer been callin' me "Michael. No one never called me nothin' bu' Charlie. An' Daisy, 'er name ain't Annie…"

"Well…it is …" spoke up the little girl. "My first name is Anna. But everyone calls me Daisy."

"Why, I've never heard anyone ever call you Daisy, child…not until your father…."

"All my friends call me Daisy. And my Daddy is my best friend! Can I sit on your lap, Daddy?" Daisy had eased into the role with more grace than Charlie had.

"Yeah, the right leg, me Daisy."

His mother laughed. "Well, I hadn't heard that before!" She turned back to Charlie. She frowned a bit. "You do remember my name, correct?" He shook his head _no_.

"My name is Eleanore Carrington O'Sullivan, Nellie for short. You are Charles Michael O'Sullivan the Second, heir to this estate. Your friends, by the way, call you Mike, not Charlie. Your father was called Charles or Charlie. He passed away when you were but a child. I raised you alone since that time. You are forty-six years old, married once. Your wife Maggie, Anna's mother, passed away 7 years ago in childbirth. Maggie was a lovely woman, sweet and kind. It was the one decision you made in your life that I heartily applauded you for. You were both very devoted to each other. She was a wonderful daughter-in-law. We got along well. You were quite devastated when she passed away.

You are an actor, a profession I never wanted you to enter, but you insisted. We had many arguments about it. Does that bring back any memories, Michael?"

"No, it don't. Bu' wha' about me leg…wha' 'appened to it? I can't 'ardly walk…"

"You were in a serious accident several years ago. After Maggie's death, you started drinking. One night, you were inebriated and were crossing a street. You didn't see a car till it was too late. Your leg was mangled quite badly. The doctors did what they could and at least you can walk on it a bit, but you still have severe pain."

"Michael, I'm concerned about you. You don't seem to remember anything…and your personality is different. And you are speaking very strangely. Would you be amenable to seeing a physician? I can have our family doctor come over perhaps as soon as tomorrow or even this afternoon."

Charlie hesitated. He didn't think there was anything wrong with him, but if it would make this woman happy, he would do it. And there was the odd fact that he looked very different than he used to. Even Daisy had changed a bit.

"Yes, Mum, tha's a good idear. I'll do wha'ever yer ask."

"Very well then, Michael."

Charlie and Daisy came down for breakfast that first day, and were served by a young attractive woman who entered the room in a maid's black dress and white apron and cap. She had red hair and blue eyes.

Charlie smiled at her shyly. The woman brought out a tray of food, setting it in front of the diners. She poured coffee for Nellie, milk for Daisy, then asked, "And will it be the usual for the Mister?" She had a soft Irish brogue. She kept her distance from Charlie as she spoke and her voice had a hint of sarcasm in it.

"Wha's the usual?" said the tramp innocently.

"A glass and a bottle, wouldn't ye know…" said the maid.

"Bring me some tea, if y' please;….wha's y' name?"

The maid looked questioningly at Nellie. "He has some sort of memory loss…Michael, this is Moira, one of our maids."

The tramp smiled shyly. "Pleased t' meet y', Moira," he said. Moira ignored him.

Moira walked behind him and whispered, "Memory loss, indeed! An' don't ye be touchin' me with yer filt'y hands, neither!"

Daisy heard it too and glanced at the tramp, who shrugged.

Later, the tramp decided to find out why Moira didn't like him. He found her working alone in one of the rooms on the second floor, cleaning the Oriental rug with the carpet sweeper. He stood at the door and watched her. When she stopped and turned, he smiled at her.

She flashed her eyes and turned away, ignoring him. "Why don't y' loike me?" he asked.

"Can't say."

"It's awrigh', Moira, I ain't gonna give y' the elbow…jus' tell me straight…"

Her eyes flashed angrily. "Because you're nasty, an' rude..and insultin' to yer sweet mother…"

He stood there wondering what kind of man Michael was to insult his mother…

"And why are ye talkin' like a filt'y Englishman?" demanded Moira.

"I ain't filthy, Moira. An' callin' names ain't gonna make nothin' betta…"

"I know I shouldn't be insultin' me employer, but … the day ye tried to force me to kiss ye, that was filt'y…I would quit workin' at this place, were it not for yer lovely Mother. So if ye are t'inkin' about letting' me go;'I'll oblige ye an' I'll be out o' the door before ye can say one of yer pretty little epithets!"

"Did I apologize t' y', Moira?"

"Ye did not! Not a kind word to me….not that I cared….ye obnoxious pig…"

"Lemme apol'gize now, Moira…"

"Yer wantin' to kiss me again, is it? You'll have to catch me first and I know ye can't run as fast as I can!"

"No, Moira. I jus' wanna say tha' I am very sorry f' whatever 'appened…"

"An' ye t'ink t'at makes it all right…

"No, it don'. Bu' don' leave me Mum's service on account o' me…"

He exited the room, leaving Moira confused. He had never apologized for his bad manners in the past. She shrugged her shoulders and went back to her work.

The physician examined Charlie that very afternoon and told Mrs O'Sullivan that her son had an odd form of amnesia that he had never seen before. He advised trying to bring back memories by having him do familiar things and see familiar people and places. He also gave Charlie a new pain medication that he felt would take away some of the pain temporarily so that he could walk better.

A short time after taking the pain medication, Charlie said, "Since the doctor give me this pain medication, I feel betta; I'd loike t' take a walk wi' Daisy t' day…"

"Where do you want to go? Georg can drive you somewhere if you want to walk a bit, and pick you up later." said Eleanore.

"Y' wanna go t' the park?" asked the tramp of Daisy. This was the park near the Mission. The tramp wanted to get back to the Mission and explain to Rebecca as best he could what had happened to them last night. Even if she were angry, at least Daisy would be home. He would figure out what to do about himself later. Maybe he would have to stay with Nellie until he figured it out.

Daisy nodded. She threw her arms around him and kissed him.

The tramp and Daisy went outside to wait for Georg to pull the automobile around to the front.

Outside of the mansion, a tattered vagrant sat smoking. As the tramp approached, the man threw down his cigarette and started to run off. He had obviously heard of Charles O'Sullivan's stinginess.

"Me good chap, where are y' goin'…come 'ere…" said Charlie, who knew what it was like to be hungry and homeless. The man stopped, hesitantly. "Are y' lookin' f' a meal?"

The man tipped his hat and nodded. "C'n y' spare some change, guv?"

The tramp turned to Daisy. "Did Nellie give y' the money t' carry?" Daisy nodded and handed over the purse. The tramp handed the vagrant some money and gave the purse back to Daisy.

The tramp turned to the vagrant. "If y' please, go 'round th' 'ouse t' th' back, servant's entrance an' ask f' Moira. Tell 'er the Master said t' give y' a noice meal."

"Thank y' guv," said the vagrant, smiling. He tipped his hat to the tramp who tipped his top hat in return.

Georg drove them to the park. Nellie had given Daisy some money for ice cream. They got out and started to walk. His leg was stiff and sore at first, but gradually he felt much better. He hated not being able to run about with Daisy as before.

"Sorry I ain't much fun t' day, Daisy."

"It's okay, Charlie.

Normally, Charlie had a very odd way of walking and coupled with the fact that he was taller now and was limping on the bad leg, his walk was very strange indeed. He sat down at a bench not far from the tree they had climbed yesterday. There were some children playing and Daisy ran over to them. One of the boys pointed at Charlie and started walking like him and laughing.

Daisy became angry and told the boy to stop making fun of her father. He wouldn't and she slapped him. He pushed her. She started crying. One of the girls hit Daisy. Pretty soon there was a free-for-all. Charlie walked toward then as soon as he first saw there was trouble. When the children saw him standing there, they stopped fighting and just stared at him.

"What's goin' on 'ere?" he asked.

Daisy ran over to him and grabbed his arm. She was still crying. "They were making fun of you."

"Daisy," he said to her softly. "They don't know no better. 'Elp me do me circus act, loike I showed yer."

He took his top hat and rolled it up and down his back and over his arMrs He flipped it up and it landed on his head perfectly. He juggled the hat and it ended up on his elbow. He threw it to Daisy and it landed on her head. She flipped it to her foot and back to her head, then back to Charlie. By now the kids were intrigued. He went over to a bench and sat down. He pulled out a couple pennies from his pocket and did some slight of hand tricks. Daisy helped him with a couple card tricks. He juggled his hat along with several oranges one of the children had. He ended up by throwing the oranges to the children one by one and the last was his hat which ended up neatly on his right foot. He flipped it up back onto his head with one perfect kick. They clapped their hands.

"So, Mister, are you from the circus?" said the boy who had called Daisy names.

"I 'ad a job in the circus once," he said.

"What did you do…were you the ring master?"

"No, I was the clown."

"Yeah, you're pretty funny," said the boy. "I guess I was rude. Sorry, little girl."

The children dispersed.

"Let's go over t' the Mission, Daisy. I ain't lookin' forward t' wha' yer Mum is gonna say…"

"It wasn't your fault, Charlie…we don't know what happened…"

"She ain't gonna see it that way…"

They walked to the Mission and Charlie was a bit apprehensive about what she would say. She might forbid him to go anywhere with Daisy again.

They entered the Mission and Charlie sat down at the bench in the lobby while Daisy ran to get her mother. While Daisy was looking for her, Rebecca came out of another door and saw Charlie sitting on the bench. Of course she recognized him as Charles Michael O'Sullivan, having seen his photo in the newspaper. She remembered reading about his marriage ten years ago and then a few years later his wife's demise. He was wearing formal dress; his top hat was sitting beside him.

When he saw her, Charlie stood and smiled. It was very odd towering over the tiny woman, when just yesterday he had been only a bit taller than she. He introduced himself to her and she to him. He bowed and took her hand and kissed it.

"It's good to see you, sir, you are Mr O'Sullivan, aren't you? Oh, it's just so nice to have someone like yourself think about us." Rebecca took his hand. "It's always a pleasure to have someone like you come and see us…" Why don't I show you around the mission, so you can see what we do here? Rebecca was aware that she was batting her eyes at the man and babbling and she wanted to kick herself for flirting, but she couldn't help it. He was rather handsome and she really wanted him to make a donation.

Rebecca didn't look angry about his not bringing Daisy home in time. Where was Daisy? At that moment, Daisy peeked her head out of her mother's office where she had been looking for her. She saw Rebecca and ran over to her and hugged her arm.

"Oh my goodness," said Rebecca, a bit confused. Daisy grabbed the tramp's hand and squeezed it. Just then, Annie, the real Michael O'Sullivan's daughter ran out to the lobby and stopped short, stunned, when she saw someone who looked exactly like her real father… and a little girl who looked just like herself. She stared at them in amazement.

"Daisy, stop staring; that's rude." She turned to Charlie. "I'm sorry, Mr O'Sullivan. She didn't mean to be rude," said Rebecca.

Then she looked at her own daughter, Daisy, who at the moment sported the long straight hair and she thought her to be Michael's daughter. In reality, the girl who had stayed with her at the Mission was Michael's daughter.

Annie was also confused. So if this were her father, who was the rude little tramp who claimed to be her father? She wished he were here so she could find out.

"Girls, why don't you go play somewhere? I am sure Mr O'Sullivan has something he needs to say to me." She turned to Charlie. "Let me take your hat and cane."

"Take the 'at…I need me cane…" He smiled. There was something familiar in his soft voice and his smile, but Rebecca couldn't figure it out.

"Have you come here for a tour, Mr O'Sullivan? I can show you the excellent work we do here."

"Ma'am, don't y' recognize me?"

"Oh, don't call me Ma'am. It's just Rebecca. And of course, I recognize you from your photos in the paper, Mr O'Sullivan."

"It's jus' Charlie, R'becca…"

"So would you like a tour?"

"Long as me leg 'olds up; feels very well now…" The leg did indeed feel better. Not that the pain was gone, but it was definitely bearable and he was limping a lot less.

Rebecca took the tramp on a tour of the entire place, including areas he had never seen. She was hoping he would offer a charitable donation, as many wealthy people often did.

Finally she said it, "Charlie, I hope you don't think me forward, but why did you really come here? Many people come here to see the place with the idea of giving a donation. I have to ask you, are you thinking about donating? If so, we are a truly worthy cause. Would you like some coffee or something to eat?"

"Some tea if yer 'ave it, R'becca.:

She sat down across from him in the cafeteria. His eyes looked so familiar. She just couldn't place it, but she had a feeling that she knew him, that she had met him before. His smile and his soft voice were familiar too.

"You know, it's very strange…our daughters look almost alike. Why they could be twins…"

"Yeah, ain't that strange."

Rebecca wondered too, although she didn't say anything, that his grammar was a bit odd for a rich, well-educated man.

Meanwhile, the two girls were having an interesting conversation in Daisy's former bedroom, now occupied by Annie.

"How come we look alike?" asked Daisy "Except you have my hair."

"Yeah. And you have mine. I don't know why. What does your real Daddy look like?" asked Annie.

"He's not really my Daddy, I just call him that. He's a tramp that came in here last winter. He was half froze to death. But he's real swell and a lot of fun."

"So what does he look like?"

"He's real skinny and short with a little black moustache and curly black hair and it has a little grey in it, because he's kinda old. He clothes always look too big for him. But he's real handsome."

"That sounds like what my Daddy looks like now. The big tall guy downstairs, he looks like my real Daddy, but he doesn't act like him. He's too nice and polite. My Daddy is real rude. You know something else weird?"

"What?"

"My real Mommy, her name was Maggie, she died when I was born. But I've seen her pictures. She sure looks like your Mommy, Rebecca."

"Wow, that's strange. And how we switched hair."

"I think it's more than hair. I think we're inside each other, like your Daddy and mine. Look, I have a little birthmark on the back of my knee. It's pink and looks like a bird flying. Have you seen it?"

The girls looked for Annie's birthmark and sure enough, there it was on the back of Daisy's knee.

"Strange…how did it happen?" Daisy shrugged.

The girls heard a knock on the door. It was Rebecca. "Annie, your father is ready to go now, come on down."

Both the girls came down. "Hope I see you again," whispered Daisy. Annie smiled and nodded.

Charlie had made a phone call to the mansion and Georg was sent to pick them up. Daisy told him what Annie had said.

"Ain't that strange…" mused the tramp.


	8. The Teens Return

Chapter 8 - The Teens Return

After dinner and a stint listening to the radio, Daisy went up to bed by herself and Charlie was about to follow her when Nellie said, "Michael, I wonder if you would do me a favour."

"Yes, Mum, anythin'."

"Would you meet me in the parlour in a few minutes?"

He nodded. He entered the cosy room fifteen minutes later. Nellie was already sitting on the settee with a large book. She waved Charlie over to the large chair next to her. He sat down.

"That pain medication seems to be working well, Michael, isn't it? You are walking much better. Do you feel better?"

"Yes, Mum. It ain't 'alf bad no more."

She laughed. Since his fall, his grammar had become so atrocious and his pronunciation so bad, she could hardly understand him sometimes. But there would be time to help him with that later.

"Since you have changed so much for the better, Michael, I have decided that I want to give you something that belonged to your grandfather. She pulled a man's gold pocket watch out of her own pocket. It was on a long gold watch fob. She read the inscription: "To Charles Patrick O'Sullivan, upon the completion of twenty-five years of service. 1870." She handed him the watch.

"I can't take this, Mum, too valuable…"

"Nonsense, Michael. I would like to see you wear it. Go ahead, put it on."

"But…"

"Just say, thank you mother!"

"Thank y' mother. I'm mos' apprec'tive." He smiled and attached the watch to his waistcoat.

"Well said, Michael." She smiled. "Now, there is something I would like you to do for me. You probably don't remember, but I have been having trouble with my eyes lately, especially reading. You used to read to me some years back, before you became more interested in carousing with your friends…I'm sorry; I shouldn't have put it that way. I was wondering if you would read to me."

The tramp started to sweat. He remembered telling the story to Daisy and how she figured out he couldn't read well.

"I can't see them little letters, Mum. I need specs…"

"They're in the drawer, Michael. Here, let me get them…don't get up."

He had been hoping she didn't have any. He put the glasses on and opened the book. He could see the letters all right now, but this was going to be an ordeal.

He started to read, "A Tale…of…Two…Kitties…by …Charles …Dick..ens."

"Michael, that's Cities."

"Oh." He went on. "It…was…the…bes' ..o'…toimes; …it was..th' wors' o' toimes…" His mouth was getting dry by this time.

"Mum, I don't think I c'n do this…"

She had asked him to read on purpose. She wanted to find out if he had any other memory deficits.

"Mum, I'm sorry…I don't mean t' le' y' down…I can't read too well."

She sat on the arm of the large chair. She ran her fingers through his curly hair, which he hadn't slicked down with Michael's hair oil. It was shiny and wild as it had been when he was a child. She hugged him. "Honey, it's all right. You've been so sweet the last few days, I can hardly believe it. And, I sincerely hope you've stopped drinking….that seems to be at the root of all problems around here."

"No, Mum, I ain't doin' no drinkin'," he promised, hoping the real Michael would be able to live up to that too, whenever and if ever, he returned.

She offered him her arm. "Let me escort you upstairs, Michael." He smiled and took her arm.

* * *

Mike O'Sullivan didn't know what to do with himself. He really wanted to go home, but he couldn't. He didn't eat at the Mission unless he was desperate. He begged food from his mother's servants at the mansion but once again, he had tried to steal a kiss from Moira. She screamed and two of the male servants chased him away. When he heard about it, Templeton told the rest of the servants to ban the little tramp from the mansion.

Unbeknownst to anyone but the family, there was a secret passageway leading from the house down to the river. Mike used to play there as a child. He went down to the river and found the entrance; it was overgrown with weeds and brush. The door lock was rusted, but it wasn't locked anymore and it opened easily after a few hard shoves. It was dark, so he searched in his pocket for a match. He found some and lit a torch that was on the wall. He pulled the entrance door closed again and went to his favourite place to play as a child. His mother had never known that he had found the passageway, so she didn't know all the things he kept down there.

Mike found forgotten treasures of his childhood, most of which were useless to him now. He went up several sets of stairs and peeked through the tiny peepholes in the walls, disguised cleverly so they could not be observed from within the rooms themselves.

He thought that probably he himself was the last person to have been in the passages, and that was years ago, when he was a child. There was thick dust everywhere and cobwebs hung from the ceiling.

Mike knew of several doorways that led into the house from the passageway. In the coming days, he bided his time in the passageway until he could get in and out quickly, stealing food. He knew his mother didn't keep any money about the house, but he did find some money on one occasion in Moira's pocketbook. He was able to let himself into her closet, found her money and took it. He heard someone unlocking the outer door of the bedroom, so he left quickly.

So Charles Michael O'Sullivan the Second was reduced to living as a vagrant and a thief. He took Moira's money and bought himself some food and a bottle of liquor. He fell asleep in broad daylight on one of his own neighbour's lawn.

Shortly afterward, Eleanore O'Sullivan received a phone call from the police.

"We have someone who says he's your son, Ma'am. He's drunk so we took him in for vagrancy. It seems he was sleeping on your neighbour's lawn."

"Well, my son is still home, I believe….it isn't him." Eleanore was worried though. She hadn't seen Michael this morning and hoped it wasn't him. "Describe him, Officer…"

"He's probably in his mid forties, about five foot four or five, 125 pounds, very thin, dark hair, moustache, very dishevelled…sound like him?"

"Heavens, no! My son is tall, six foot two, maybe 230 pounds and has a crippled leg, limps badly, uses a cane. He has dark hair and a moustache also, but that's where the resemblance ends."

"Well, sorry to bother you, Ma'am," said the officer.

"Wait…there was a man of that description here recently, a tramp, begging for food. We always give food to anyone who asks. However, this man insisted he was my son…perhaps it's the same man. Later he caused a tiff with the servants and my butler gave orders to keep him away from the house."

"It may be the same man…we'll question him. Thanks for the tip."

"Officer, one more thing…"

"Yes?"

"My maid asked me to call you to report that there has been money stolen from her purse. She can't understand it because she keeps her room locked at all times."

"Perhaps we should send an officer over to investigate."

"Please do."

* * *

The days went by slowly but rather pleasantly for the tramp. Although unhappy living another man's life and uncomfortable with the painful leg, he was glad to share the days with Daisy and Eleanore.

One day Charlie decided to go over to the Mission again to see Rebecca. He asked Eleanore if she would consider giving a small gift of money to the Mission as it was a worthy cause and he would take it there.

"Michael, that's a splendid idea. But I would like to come along myself and look at the work they are doing."

Charlie had hoped to see Rebecca alone, but he brought Eleanore and Daisy along at their request. They went into the lobby and Annie met them. Daisy was glad to see her.

"Where's yer Mum, Annie?" asked the tramp.

"She 's coming." Annie was standing next to Daisy. "Can we go and play, Grandma?"

"Certainly," smiled Eleanore. The girls ran off. Eleanore and Charlie sat on the bench in the lobby. "It's definitely strange how the two girls resemble each other," said Eleanore. "Why they could be twins!"

Charlie smiled. "Yeah, I thought so mese'f, when I firs' seen 'em."

Rebecca soon appeared and Charlie stood up and shook her hand. He introduced his "mother."

"Mum, I'd loike t' beg off…"

"Don't you feel like walking this afternoon?" asked Eleanore.

"I do…tha's just it…I would loike to take me usual walk. Since Annie ain't 'ere, and I been given th' grand tour b'fore, I'd loike t' jus' enjoy the sunshine t'day…"

"Well, certainly, dear. It's all right with you, isn't it, Ma'am?"

"Please just call me Rebecca, Mrs O'Sullivan. And certainly, it's no problem. I will see you later then, Mr O'Sullivan."

"If you return and we're not here, just call the house for Georg, dear."

The tramp gave Eleanore a kiss on the forehead, tipped his top hat to Rebecca and walked back outside. He enjoyed his daily walks whether he was alone, with Eleanore or Daisy or both. Because he was taking the pain medication regularly, he was able to walk with only a slight limp, the stairs being the only thing that gave him a little trouble.

He walked through the park, and saw some of the same people he saw every day on his walks. He tipped his hat and they did the same or nodded in greeting.

Charlie went to a shaded, wooded area of the park that he loved to walk through. The smell of the foliage was sweet and he stopped often to admire a small wildflower or to quietly observe a bird or squirrel running about its habitat. There were steps down to where a swiftly running stream was flowing. He had been here before with Daisy. It was beautifully quiet except for the water. He sat down on a bench to observe the scene. Bits of sunlight played on the shining surface. With his eyes, he followed a few bits of leaf foliage dancing down the stream and watched them flip over a miniature waterfall downstream.

He was so caught up in his reverie that he was startled to hear voices behind him.

"Well, who do we have here?" The tramp turned to see two teen-aged boys saunter up to him. The speaker was smiling, but not with a friendly smile. He was wielding a large switchblade which he flipped open and pointed at Charlie's belly. It was one of the boys who had tried to steal his things when he had first come into town.

"You look like you have a lot of money, mister. Hand it over."

"I don't carry no money wi' me." said Charlie.

"I don't believe you," mocked the boy. "Would you rather I slit your belly from top to bottom?" The other boy stood behind the tramp's bench. Charlie made a move to stand up but the boy pushed him down again by the shoulders. He felt a revolver pointed at the back of his head.

Charlie tried a desperate bluff. "Do y' lads know who I am?"

"No, we don't," said the boy. "And we don't care a rip either!"

"Wait," said the boy behind Charlie. "Let's see what he has to say."

"I'm Charles Michael O'Sullivan, th' heir to millions. Me Mum would give yer a lot o' money. Bu' if y' kill or 'urt me, she ain't gonna pay yer nothin'!"

The first boy sat down on the bench next to Charlie. He toyed with his switchblade. Then he looked at Charlie. "How much do you think she would give us?"

"'Ow much yer want?"

"How about ten thousand dollars?"

"Yeah, she'd pay that much."

The first boy, tall and skinny, blond, with an angular face, smiled at his companion. "Well, Freddy, looks like we got us a little gold mine here, what do you think?"

Freddy laughed. The boy behind the tramp was shorter, about as tall as the tramp's real height and had blue eyes and red hair. He was the other half of the team that had tried to rob the tramp last winter. He flipped his revolver back into his pocket. "So how are we going to get the money, Jeff?"

"I c'n go 'ome an' tell Mum I need it. She'll 'ave t' ge' it from the bank tomorra…takes a while t' pu' tha' much money t' gether."

"Sounds reasonable," said Freddy.

"No it don't, stupid!" said Jeff. "Rich guy here just wants time to get away and call the cops…don't you get it, Freddy, you're so stupid."

"No, I ain't, Jeff! So what are we going to do then?"

Jeff got an evil grin on his face and turned to Freddy. "We'll hold him for ransom! That's it!"

"Yeah!" said Freddy. "Good thinkin'!"


	9. The Last Place He Wants to Be

Chapter 9 - The Teens Return

Charles Michael O'Sullivan awoke that same morning to find himself in the top bunk of a bed. He almost fell out when he turned over, not realizing he was up that high. He was hit with waves of nausea. He clutched his stomach and realized his head was pounding. He hadn't felt this sick since the night he had collapsed in the alley with his daughter.

He couldn't remember anything at all about how he had gotten here…not a thing. But he could see that he was in jail. Being very ill and sick to his stomach, he closed his eyes again. After a period of time, he awoke feeling a bit better.

He was really hungry. Not just thinking he was hungry, like he used to think in the old days when he had as much food as he had wanted. No, he was very hungry, atrociously hungry. He tried to think when his last meal had been and since he didn't know what time it was or what day, he had no idea. But in reality it had been more than a day and a half since he had eaten something, bought with the money stolen from Moira.

He had been living off the charity of others since he had become a tramp, even to the point of begging for handouts, not of course having a job of his own or any way to make money. He stole freely from his mother's house; even though he was banned from her servants' kitchen for attacking Moira. He could move in and out of the secret passageway and often got away with some food, liquor or money.

He sometimes ate at the Mission, but he was sickened by the dirty, ill and down-on-their-luck people who ate there. The only good thing about it was that the food was free and he could see Annie. She was keeping his secret nicely. But there was no drinking allowed there; any alcohol was confiscated and promptly disposed of.

He still slept at the mission during the nights but often came back to the Mission drunk. Rebecca had also become concerned about his appearance. He was losing weight because he wasn't eating and his cheeks were sunken in and his eyes looked puffy. His face and nose were sometimes pink and he didn't look well.

This morning, waking up in jail, he was wearing Charlie's large trousers, a white shirt missing most of the buttons and its collar and Charlie's small dark coat. Charlie's shoes had hurt so much he had begged Rebecca for another pair which she gladly provided from the donations of clothing she always received. But his feet were bare this morning. Oddly, Charlie's derby still sat on his head. He didn't know where the bamboo cane had gone.

The coat was unbuttoned and the shirt flapped open too. Mike looked down at his chest and he could see his ribs clearly. He buttoned the coat. He touched his face. It felt like he hadn't shaved in several days.

Mike sat up on the bed. He realized the nausea was partly from being so hungry. He jumped down from the bunk and wondered how he had gotten here.

He grabbed the bars and started yelling. An officer sauntered over. "What do you want, buddy?"

"What am I doing in here?"

The officer laughed. "You were picked up for vagrancy. Some people in the ritzy neighbourhood called because you were drunk and sleeping on their lawn."

"I demand that you let me call my mother!" snarled Mike arrogantly.

"We called her last night when you were shouting that you were Charles Michael O'Sullivan. She said you weren't."

"I'm entitled to one phone call!"

"Sure. You get one phone call." The officer let Mike out of the cell and led him over to the phone. He dialled his mother.

Templeton answered and Mike asked for his mother.

"Who is this?" asked Templeton. He thought the voice sounded like Michael.

Mike took a chance. "It's Michael. Tell her I have to speak to her immediately. It's of the utmost importance."

"I am sorry, Sir. She is out for the day. If you could call back later…"

"Wait, Templeton. I can talk to you. I'm over at the …uh…jail. Can Georg come and get me?"

Templeton raised his eyebrows. "Where, sir?"

"The jail, Templeton, I'm in jail…can't you hear?" Mike snarled impatiently.

"Sorry Sir. I shall send Georg for you immediately."

"Give him money to pay my fine."

"Yes, Sir."

Templeton summoned Georg. He handed him the household chequebook. "Georg, I have received a call from someone who sounds like the master. He says he is incarcerated. Please go and pick him up if indeed it is Mr O'Sullivan and pay his fine. If it is not the master, perhaps it is that odd little rag-a-muffin tramp who has been hanging about, then do not bring him back by any means."

"Understood," said the chauffeur.

* * *

At the same time, Eleanore was speaking with Rebecca. She was quite impressed with the way that Rebecca was running the mission with just the help of volunteers and a few paid workers. Eleanore said she would be happy to donate and she would send a cheque.

Rebecca called Annie and Daisy to come downstairs and Daisy left with Eleanore. They stood outside on the steps but Michael wasn't there. Daisy said he probably had taken a long walk and would call Georg for a ride later. Eleanore sent Daisy back inside to call for Georg to pick them up also.

Returning home, Eleanore discovered that Michael wasn't there. She became concerned that he may have gone to the pub and started drinking again. At midnight, he had still not arrived. Eleanore called Georg and Templeton to scour the city for him.

* * *

Earlier that afternoon, after the two teen-aged thugs Jeff and Freddy had decided to make a little money by holding Charles Michael O'Sullivan for ransom, they still had the quandary of where to hold him until the money was paid.

Jeff snapped his fingers. "I know! We'll take him to the haunted house!"

"The haunted house, Jeff…is that a good idea?" Freddy looked a bit worried.

"It's not really haunted, stupid!"

"Are you sure?"

"Freddy, all the _little_ kids say it's haunted…who are you going to believe, them or me?"

Freddy shrugged his shoulders.

Jeff pulled at the tramp's arm. "Okay buddy, let's get going." Charlie stood up and walked up the stairs slowly and carefully. "Can't you walk any faster?"

"No, I'm walkin' fast as I c'n…."

"At this rate, it will take us forever…" grumbled Jeff.

"Shut up, Jeff," said Freddy. "We only have a few blocks to go to the house." He watched Charlie walking and noticed the limp. "Something wrong with yer leg there, Charlie?"

"Yeah, go' me a bad leg. Was a auto accident…"

Finally, they came to a run down house, but one that had been elegant in its day. The first floor windows had been boarded up. It stood four storeys high including the attic. After pushing a wooden beam to the side that had been placed across the door frame, the front door opened freely. Inside, Jeff pushed a piece of wood against the door so it would not open. It was dark inside the house and smelled musty. Oddly, there was still some furniture in the house, covered in white dust covers.

Jeff pulled out a flashlight from his back pocket.

"Where're we goin'?" asked Charlie.

"Upstairs," said Jeff. "Third floor." There was a wide marble staircase with many steps leading up. Charlie was exhausted by this time. His pain medication was wearing off too. He stopped at the base of the stairs.

"Don't think I c'n make it up them steps…"

"Well, you have to," said Jeff. "That's the best place to keep you…"

"Wait, Jeff…" said Freddy. "Maybe we could carry him up the stairs."

The two boys carried the tramp up three flights and then set him down on his feet. He was limping badly now because he needed the medication and the boys hadn't been too gentle with his crippled leg.

The room they took Charlie to was actually a suite of rooms which must have been elegant in its day. There was a bedroom, a sitting room and a bathroom. There was a pump at the sink in the bathroom that still worked. There were several chairs and a dilapidated four poster bed. Everything was very dusty. Charlie dusted off a wooden chair with his handkerchief and sat down.

"So wha' y' wan' me to do 'ere, lads?" asked the tramp. "It's pas' me dinner toime…"

"I suppose you want us to wait on you hand and foot like your servants do at home, eh, stupid?" said Jeff. The tramp shrugged.

"Jeff, cut it out! Call him Charlie…." said Freddy. "Besides, we have to eat dinner too…we could bring him something from home…"

Jeff laughed nastily. "Okay, Freddy, you bring him something from home. Are you going to tell your stepmother that you need extra food to feed some rich guy that you kidnapped for his money? She'd go for that, Freddy!" Jeff laughed again. "Come on, let's go."

"Wait, who's going to watch him while we're gone…he'll get away!"

"I have a key, Freddy!" said Jeff mockingly, holding up a skeleton key from his pocket.

"Where did you get a key, Jeff?"

"The other day I was here and tried a bunch of my dad's keys in the locks. That's why we had to use this room. Only one I found that works."

"So you was planning this all the time…a kidnapping…why didn't you tell me?"

"If you had time to think about it, Freddy, you woulda wanted to back out…yer too soft-hearted…and soft-headed, I might add… come on, let's go!"

The boys left. It was getting late. Charlie went over to the bed and pulled back the dust cover. There was a bedspread underneath and a sheet and blanket, including a pillow. It was as if someone was expected; the bed was made and ready for them. The bedclothes smelled musty. The tramp took off his clothes except for his underwear and put his shirt over the pillow; he was afraid he would sneeze all night otherwise. He got into bed painfully and set the ebony cane against the wall near the bed so it would be in easy reach. He pulled the covers over himself and fell asleep.


	10. A Strange Meeting

**Chapter 10: A Strange Meeting**

Early that same day, Georg the chauffeur arrived at the jail. He talked with the officer in charge and asked to see the prisoner who said he was Charles Michael O'Sullivan. The officer led him to the cell where Mike was being held.

"Georg! I've never been so glad to see you!" He jumped from the top bunk and ran over to the bars. The chauffeur looked at the small, thin man. He had dishevelled curly dark hair. His clothes were torn and his feet were bare. His trousers were extremely large and held up by suspenders. His coat was laying on his bunk, his derby on top of them. There was another man in the bottom bunk.

"I suppose you don't know me either, Georg."

"How did you know my name?"

"I've known you since my mother hired you just before my wedding ten years ago, Georg."

"But you can't be Mr O'Sullivan…he's …"

"Yes, I know, Georg, he's over six feet tall, 230 pounds…not short and skinny like I am now….I don't know how it happened, but I am Charles Michael O'Sullivan! You have to believe me!"

"I don't know…" said Georg. "You can't possibly be the master…no…you can't…I'm sorry, sir, I can't help you." He turned and walked away, leaving Mike frustrated and yelling after him.

The officer in charge came over when he heard Mike yelling. "Hey buddy, shut up, no need to be yelling!" He turned to walk away.

Suddenly Mike had an idea. "Wait…there is someone who might know me…I need another phone call…"

"I can't do that, buddy."

"Will you stop calling me buddy? I'm not your friend!"

"Well, if that's how you feel about it…"

"No, wait. Please could you let me have another call…"

"Look, if it will make you happy and you promise to pipe down, I will make a call for you. I'm not supposed to do that, but…"

"Good!" said Mike. "Here, call this number. He wrote Rebecca's name and number at the mission and handed the paper to the officer."

"I'll try the number. Now you promise to pipe down…"

"Yes, hurry up…"

The officer called the number and Rebecca answered. "This is the City Jail. I have a man here, says he knows you. He was picked up for drunkenness and vagrancy last night and wants someone to pay his fine so he can get out. Would you be willing to come down here to see him?"

"What's his name?"

"He claims to be Charles Michael O'Sullivan, the millionaire. Of course that's ridiculous. He's a skinny little runt, weighs not more than 125 or so, small, slight of build, 5'5" maybe, dark hair, moustache, blue eyes…"

"Oh, that's Charlie. We were wondering where he was…"

"He really _is_ Charles Michael O'Sullivan?"

Rebecca laughed. "No, certainly not! Mr O'Sullivan is a very tall man…no, this must be Charlie…he's a tramp that's been staying with us since last winter. Lately he's been getting drunk quite often, so it's no surprise that he's been picked up. I'll come down and get him…"

After Rebecca paid his fine, and he was let out of jail in the morning, Charles Michael O'Sullivan declined her offer of a ride back to the mission. He buttoned his shirt and tucked it into his large trousers and buttoned the jacket over it. He stopped at a saloon and washed his face and hands and combed his hair in the washroom. He had enough money to buy a few drinks and he stayed there for some time. Then he went on his way back to the mission. He entered the main door and started up the steps to Charlie's room when he saw Rebecca coming down the stairs.

"Charlie, are you okay? I'm concerned about you. You don't look well lately."

"I'm just fine," said Charles Michael O'Sullivan. "And call me Mike. …"

"Mike? Are you still trying to tell me you are Mr O'Sullivan? That's ridiculous. And you're drunk again, Charlie. I'm very worried about you."

"My name is Mike..and I never drink…never, never…why I'm as sober as a judge right now…I only drink fruit juice!" He laughed and hiccoughed loudly.

"You'd better go up to bed, Charlie…"

"It's Mike, you stupid woman!." He looked at her a bit leeringly. Rebecca didn't like that look, but continued down the steps. He went up to Charlie's room and lay down on the bed and was soon asleep.

The tramp was awakened very early the next morning by the nagging pain in his leg. The pain medication had done such a good job that he had begun to feel almost normal, and now, not having any medication, the pain was all the more intense.

He put on his shirt and managed to put the trousers on too. He looked at his shoes on the floor. He couldn't even bend over to get them without a lot of pain. He donned his waistcoat and buttoned it. He didn't bother with the tie. He limped around the suite of rooms looking for a way out.

Most of the windows were small; not large enough for a person to get through. And they didn't lead anywhere either. However, the window in the sitting room was a possibility. It was a large picture window and just outside the window was a fire escape. It was obviously meant to be an escape window, but on closer inspection, the window had been nailed shut. There were two wooden bars nailed on the outside of the window also, so that if the window were broken, no one could get out anyway without an axe.

The tramp looked everywhere else in the suite and couldn't find a way out. He saw pile of dusty books and magazines in a bookcase. Eleanore had been helping him with his reading, so he thought this might be a good time to practice, seeing as he had nothing better to do. He took out the spectacles she had provided for him and sat at the table.

He heard the boys come up the steps and stayed where he was. He hoped they had brought something to eat. He was very hungry. Thankfully, the boys had brought breakfast. They all sat down to eat.

Jeff spotted Charlie's bare feet. "Why don't you put your shoes on?"

"The pain in me leg….at 'ome, me valet dresses me."

"Oh lah-di-da!" said Jeff, mockingly.

Charlie didn't say anything.

"I can put your shoes on for you, Charlie," said Freddy.

"Thank y' me lad," smiled Charlie.

"Is he paying you to be his valet, Freddy?"

"Shut up, Jeff. Can't you be nice to him? After all, we're keeping him here against his will. He's being pretty nice about it…"

"Yeah, Freddy, that's what kidnapping is…keeping somebody against their will…Jeff got up. "I have some important business to do this morning…write a ransom letter to send to his Ma. You can stay and entertain ol' Mr La-di-dah if you want. Here's the key, Freddy. Don't forget to lock it when you leave." He threw the key over at Freddy but the tramp caught it instead. He smiled and handed it to Freddy.

Jeff was a tall, blond angular boy with blue eyes. He was slim and good looking, except that he had a habit of scowling and narrowing his eyes rather menacingly. The tramp felt he was the more dangerous of the two. Jeff left the room and closed the door.

Freddy was a short muscular boy. He looked very young, almost naiive, certainly an asset to a would-be thief. Freddy and the tramp sat in silence for a few minutes.

The tramp spoke up. "So whyja take up a loife o' croime?"

"I'm not in a life of crime…"

"Yer kidnappin' me…tha' a croime…"

"Hmmm. I suppose it is…"

"An' I know f' a fack tha' y' been stealin' thin's from th' vagrants an' poor people wha' come t' th' mission…"

"How do you know about that, Charlie?"

"I know tha' one nigh' las' winter, y' took on a li'l skinny fella, a tramp wearin' bu' a blanket over 'is jacket. 'E 'ad a cat, scrawny thin'…y' tried t' ge' money from 'im an' e' go' th' betta o' y'…"

The boy's eyes opened wide…"How did you know that?"

"I 'ear thin's, Freddy."

"Did you know that that little tramp stole back all them things we took from him? And we didn't even see him do it! Y'know, if I could find him again, I'd ask him to join us…he's a great pickpocket! We could make a fortune with him on our side!"

The tramp smiled at the somewhat odd compliment. "Is tha' so, Freddy. One thin' though, ain't it a bi' nasty t' be robbin' them poor people wha' only 'ave a few coins?"

"You're right, Charlie. We weren't making nothin' robbing them vagrants and drunks. They was easy marks, but didn't have nothing worth our while. So we moved on to bigger fish…like you, Charlie."

"I admire y' ingenuity, me lad."

"Thank you, Charlie. You ain't a bad fella, yourself." Freddy was studying the tramp with interest. "What's that…"

"What?"

"The watch chain on your vest. You got a watch in your pocket? Give it to me…"

"It ain't moine t' give…"

"Whose is it?"

"Belonged t' me gran'father…me mum give it t' me just fer safekeepin"…

"Give it to me anyway, Charlie." said Freddy. The tramp detached it and handed it to the boy reluctantly. The boy looked at it, opened the back and peered at it curiously. He snapped the back closed and set it on the table.

Freddy walked over to the window. He looked down to the street below. "Sure is a distance down there," he said idly.

"Yer correct, Freddy. Looks loike a long way t' fall."

"Are you plannin' to jump, Charlie?"

Charlie smiled. "'Ardly, me lad. I'd need a axe t' chop them wood pieces off. If y' 'ave one I c'n borrow…"

Freddy laughed. "I don't think Jeff would be happy with me if I did that!"

Freddy was still looking out the window, his back to the tramp. The tramp eyed his watch on the table, and in one swift move, he picked it up off the table without a sound. His hat was on the back of the chair and he put the watch in the inside sweatband and swiftly returned the hat to its place on the back of the chair.

Freddy soon came back and sat at the table. "Hey Charlie, where's yer watch?"

"Ain't it there no more?"

"You must have taken it back…hand it over, Charlie. I mean it."

"Search me Freddy, I ain't got it…"

The tramp stood up and let the boy check all of his pockets….twice. He didn't find anything. The boy was stumped. "Maybe the house really is haunted, Charlie. Are you okay with stayin' here alone?"

The tramp laughed. "Yeah, Freddy. Ain't no ghost gonna ge' me."

"Hey, do me a favor, Charlie…"

"Wha' is it, me lad?"

"Don't mention the watch to Jeff. I must have lost it or something…"

"I won't say a word."

"Sorry Jeff keeps calling you names, Charlie. He don't mean no harm."

"It's awright', Freddy. I been called worse…"

"Look, Charlie, I'm gonna leave you here alone and lock up the door. Ain't no way out, you know it. We'll be back later with something to eat. "

At the same time the boys were talking to Charlie, Mike attempted to find the entrance to the secret passageway to his home so he could steal some food. He was very hungry again. It was after dark and he was tipsy as usual. He found an entranceway, but it didn't lead to his own home. He became a bit lost and wandered about in the darkness. There were many steps and he climbed up and up. He peered through the peek holes into many rooms, but could see nothing more than shadows because of the darkness.

Around a turn, Mike finally saw a light shining into the darkness of the passageway. The hole was above his eye level and he found a wooden crate to step on and he peered inside. There was a room with a four-poster bed, a table and chairs and other furnishings. Several doorways led into other rooMrs He thought he heard something and saw a man come out of one of the rooms and walk around the room, seemingly looking for something. The man was tall, with dark hair and a moustache and limped badly on his left leg.

He kept watching the man. He didn't believe it…he was looking at himself!

Charlie had spent several hours searching every inch of the place. He could find no way out. After a while, he was so weary from the pain in his leg, that he went back to bed and fell asleep.

He awoke to see _himself _standing at the side of his bed. His alter-ego was looking at him smugly.

"I finally found you!" said his alter-ego.

The tramp, blinked, still half asleep. He sat up, wondering if he were dreaming or what…how could he be seeing himself? But he had never looked as filthy as the little man standing at the side of his bed did.

The pain in his leg was so bad he could hardly bear it. He tried to stand and he couldn't. He rubbed the leg.

His alter-ego watched him. "Here, I have just the thing…" He pulled a half-empty bottle from his back pocket.

"No, no, I don't wan' no drink…"

"Makes your leg feel a lot better…trust me, I know." Charlie still refused.

"Who are y'?" asked Charlie the tramp, although he already knew the answer.

"I'm Charles Michael O'Sullivan the Second." He studied the face of his alter ego. "My friends call me Mike. I guess we know each other pretty well by now, so go ahead and call me Mike. I take it you're Charlie the tramp whose life I have been ingloriously leading?

"Yeah. I mus' say, though, Moike, yer loife ain't no bed o' roses neither."

"Well, I finally have someone on my side. How are you getting along with my illustrious mother?"

"She's a foine lady, Moike. She loves y' a lot."

"So she hasn't been telling you what to do all the time?"

"No, Moike. We ge' along very well."

"So how do you like my life? Living in the mansion…"

"It's awright'…I don't loike the pain in me leg … keeps me from doin' a lotta things…"

"Yes. Well, the pain in the leg is just an outward symbol, Charlie, my boy, everything about my life at the mansion is painful and confining." He paused and pulled a chair closer to the bed to sit on.

"You have anything to eat, Charlie?…I'm starving…"

"Yeah, I put away a few things wha' I 'ad left-over…yer welcome to it."

There was some fruit, bread, cheese and salted meat, all of which would keep for a time without refrigeration. The tramp handed the bags to his alter ego.

Mike ate hungrily. He washed the food down with several drinks from his bottle. Charlie looked at the man with a bit of pity.

Then Mike laughed. "You know, it's ironic."

"What's ironic?"

"Well, here you are, a tramp, and you have a rich man begging you for food. It's pretty ironic."

"Yeah, it is."

"I didn't know it was so difficult to live the life of a tramp. I am surprised and shocked to see how badly I am treated." Mike didn't sound arrogant anymore, though. He had begun to see things from another viewpoint.

"Charlie, I need a few winks now. Don't mind me if I use part of your bed."

Mike curled up on the bottom of the bed and fell asleep. It hadn't occurred to Charlie to ask Mike how he had gotten into his room.

Suddenly he heard a sound. Perhaps the boys were coming back. He shook Mike. "Wake up, y' getta get outa 'ere!"

"What?" said Mike. "You want me to leave?"

"Yeah! "Ow did y' ge' in 'ere anyway?" Mike pointed to the wall. He got up and walked over to it. Charlie thought he was going to be in trouble if the boys found Mike in his room. Suddenly the key was heard in the lock. Charlie lay down on the bed as if he were asleep. He would have to take the consequences, but he could act innocent at least.


	11. The Way Out

Chapter 11 The Way Out

Charlie's back was to the door and he heard the boys come in. "Hey, Charlie, wake up, we brought some lunch for you…" called Freddy cheerfully.

The tramp sat up again and glanced over at the wall where Mike had been standing. He expected to see him still there. But there was no sign of him. Mike was gone!

Freddy put the food out on the table and they all sat down to eat.

"Sent the ransom note to your mother, Charlie," said Freddy. "Wanna hear what it said?"

"Wha'd it say?" asked the tramp.

"We're askin' for $10,000 by the end of the week. It has to be put in a canvas bag and left in a post office box. Then we can get it at our convenience. You should be outa here soon as we get the money. Maybe a couple days more," said Freddy.

"Freddy," said Jeff with a black look on his face. "Come here…" Jeff and Freddy went over into a corner. Jeff whispered, but the tramp could catch snatches of the conversation.

"He ain't leavin' here alive, Freddy, you know that don't you?"

"What do you mean, Jeff?"

"Stupid…if we let him go, he can identify us!"

"We can hightail it outa here and no one will catch us once we have the money, Jeff."

"Freddy, listen to me! We can't take no chances! We get the money from his old lady, then we kill him and leave him on her front porch. Then we get outa the area and no one's the wiser. No one can identify us…."

I ain't gettin' involved in no murder! Kidnappin's okay, but murder, no!"

"Look stupid, you're already involved. Now shut up before he gets wise."

Charlie acted as if he hadn't heard anything.

After the boys left, Charlie realized he had to get out of the room. Jeff seemed serious about killing him. And he didn't want to wait around to find out. He went over to the wall where Mike had been standing. He felt along the wall for any sign of a secret door. Then he saw something odd. There was a bookcase on that wall and next to it, near the floor was a door stop. That made no sense, since there was no door that would touch the doorstop when opened.

Charlie pushed at the doorstop with no result. Then he twisted it with his hand. Slowly a doorway appeared as a panel of the wall opened, silently sliding into itself. There was no trace of the edges of the door when it was closed, as the wallpaper pattern concealed it perfectly, even up close.

The tramp went through the small door. On the other side was a dark passageway. There was a handle on the passageway side of the door, that when pushed, sprung the door closed again. With the door closed, the passageway was darker than night, except for the peephole into the room he had left. Around a corner, the passage was completely dark. The tramp made his way along the passageway and felt ahead of himself with the cane. He remembered the layout of the house and knew there must be steps leading down. Finally he found them and slowly felt his way down to the ground floor. In the pitch black, he couldn't see a thing, but when he reached the ground floor, there were some areas that let light in from the streetlamps. He found another secret door, this one located underneath a staircase, in the back of a storage room under the stairs. He opened another door which led into the foyer of the mansion.

He left by a side door. He went through a wooded area to avoid being seen if the boys were in the area. He made his way to the police station, near the centre of town. This normally would be the last place he would want to be found, but as Charles Michael O'Sullivan, he should have nothing to fear. By this time, his leg was so painful he could barely stand it.

He entered the station. "I 'ave a kidnappin' t' report," he said.

The officer at the desk didn't look up. :Fill this form out." She handed him a form and a pen.

"I need t' sit down…"

The officer finally looked up. "Sure."

"An' c'n I 'ave some 'elp fillin' out th' form; I ain't go' me glasses…"

""Sure, Mister." The officer finally sat down next to him and filled out the form for him. When she found out that he was Charles Michael O'Sullivan, she excused herself to tell everyone and pretty soon the whole police station was gawking at the famous rich man and waiting on him hand and foot.

When the tramp finished the police report, he was given a ride back to the mansion in a police car. Templeton helped him to the parlour and told his mother he had returned. She ran over to where he was sitting on the settee.

"Mum, it's so good t' see yer!" He stood up and hugged Eleanore.

"Oh, it's very good to see you too, Michael…I was about to have the banker gather the money for the ransom. How did you get away, Michael? Sit down, your leg must hurt, honey."

"I wonder'd if y' thought I was worth all tha' money…"

"Michael…don't be absurd, of course you're worth it. You are worth any price…and you have been so wonderful lately…you have really changed for the better."

"Thank y' Mum."

"How did you get away? Where did they hold you?"

The tramp related the story and it appeared that he must have walked 5 or 6 miles, no great feat for the tramp, but quite amazing for Charles Michael O'Sullivan with his crippled leg.

Nellie was quite impressed and proud of her son. She sat down next to him and she put his head on her shoulder. She stroked his hair, like she had done when he was a child. Even though he was middle aged, he was still her baby. She gave him a kiss on the forehead.

"Do you want me to rub your shoulders, honey? You must be sore and tired…"

He nodded gratefully. In a few minutes, Daisy ran into the room. "Daddy! Daddy! I missed you so much!" Daisy ran to him and kissed him several times and hugged him. "I thought those bad men got you!"

"'Ow didja know 'bout them men? An' th' kidnappin'?"

"I heard Grandma talking on the telephone, Daddy."

The tramp smiled. "They 'ad me for a bi', bu' I go' away!" smiled the tramp. "Ere…come an' si' on me lap…"

She sat on his lap and put her arms around him. "You're so brave!"

"Ain't s' brave as lucky, me lady!"

A few days later, the tramp was summoned to the police station to identify the two kidnappers which the police had captured the day before at the post office. The tramp picked them out of a lineup.

Several months later the tramp testified in court about the kidnapping and Jeff was sentenced to two years in reform school. Freddy was let out on parole.


	12. A Disturbance

Chapter 12 - A Disturbance

Months passed. The tramp despaired of ever recovering his own life, so he tried to make the best of living Charles Michael O'Sullivan's life. He grew to love Eleanore very much, it seemed as though she really were his mother. It felt as though Daisy were truly his daughter also.

Late one night, the tramp was awakened by a lot of noise just outside. He sat up in bed and called for Templeton.

"Wha's goin' on?"

"There's a man downstairs, Sir, making a terrible disturbance.. He refuses to leave until he has seen you. I told him if he didn't leave, I would call the police. Do you wish to see him?"

"Yeah, I'll go down an' see 'im…"

The tramp put on his dressing gown and went down stairs. He opened the door. As he thought, it was Mike. Mike was filthy; his clothes were even more tattered and he still had bare feet. There was a day or two's worth of stubble on his face. As usual, Mike was so drunk he could hardly stand.

"Charlie!" said Mike. "Help me, please! Help me!."

"Templeton," called the tramp. "'Elp me ge' 'im in th' parlour…"

Templeton gave Mike an arm on one side and the tramp on the other. They sat him on the sofa in the drawing room. Charlie sat next to Mike and Templeton put his leg up on the ottoman..

"Thank y', Templeton. Y' c'n leave us now, I know who 'e is. I need t' talk t' 'im."

The butler raised an eyebrow, but left and closed the doors. "Wha' d' y' wan' Moike?"

The little man was almost in tears. "Help me, Charlie...I want my life back, please help me!"

"I wan' moine back too... Bu' I dunno 'ow t' do it… He paused. "Moike, if we do ever ge' our lives back a' some toime, c'n I ask y' somethin'?"

"What's that, Charlie?"

"Please be nice t' yer Mum. She loves y' a lo'…she's been real sweet t' me. I love 'er like me own… she tole me ' tha' y' been s' noice th' pas' few months, she's appreci'tive."

"I'll try…"

"I s'pose it don' make no sense t'talk wi' y' t'noigh' since yer drunk an' senseless, bu' I migh' no' 'ave th' chance to say it again."

Mike nodded as if he really understood. Then he sat quietly, his head down, his eyes started to close and he fell asleep. Charlie got up and laid him flat, put a pillow behind his head, covered him, closed the doors and told Templeton not to disturb the man and to treat him as if he were a wealthy guest. Templeton wondered at his employer's odd request, but like all good butlers, did not say a word to the contrary.

The tramp awoke the next morning so sick he could hardly move. He was about to call for Templeton and he opened his eyes. He was still in the parlour. He must have fallen asleep there after talking to Mike. He closed his eyes again and groaned. He wondered what was the matter with him.

A few moments later, the tramp felt someone gently shaking him. "Charlie, Charlie?" The tramp opened his eyes and saw Mike's face. His eyes opened wider...he was himself...he was Charlie the Tramp again! He made a move to sit up, but he felt so sick, he fell back against the pillow. He opened his eyes again as the valet picked him up gently. "Take him to my bedroom," said Mike. The tramp didn't remember any more after that.

* * *

The first thing that Mike O'Sullivan did after getting back into his own body, was to take care of the Tramp. He felt terrible about Charlie, for Mike himself was the cause of the tramp being in so sorry a state. Charlie was filthy and in need of a shave. He smelled offensive and his clothes were in shreds. His ribs were protruding and his face was puffy. And he was very sick from the rich man's evil addiction to the drink.

Mike had the tramp brought to his own bed, had the valet wash and shave him and dress him in a pair of Mike's nightclothes. He called the doctor who gave Charlie some medication and something to help his sleep quietly. Mike himself sat by the bed constantly and brought the tramp nourishment when he was well enough to eat. After a week, Charlie felt much better and was able to get dressed. Mike invited him to come downstairs and eat with his family.

""Mike, I dunno wha' t' say; I'm grateful that y' took care o' me; no one never did tha' b'fore."

Mike looked a little embarrassed and ill at ease. "I owe you a lot, Charlie. You've been so wonderful to my mother, she tells me, and I want to take up my life from where you left it. I am grateful to you..." He paused. "When I saw you the other morning, I was shocked...I thought you were going to die ...from what I did to you..."

Charlie smiled at the rich man. "It's a'roigh'...I'll be foine now..." he said quietly.

"Please take any of my clothes and shoes that fit you. I can have the valet alter them for you. And come downstairs whenever you are ready."

"Who didja tell yer Mum tha' I am?"

"I told her the truth." He laughed. "Of course, she doesn't believe me. She still thinks I have some type of 'memory deficit'. But it's all right. One more thing, Charlie…." The tramp waited while O'Sullivan opened a chequebook and wrote out a check, placing in in an envelope.

"This is for the mission." said Mike, handing Charlie the envelope. It was for ten thousand dollars.

The tramp peeked at it and gasped. He looked questioningly at Mike. "Look Charlie, my mother was willing to pay that much to get me back from the kidnappers. You got back without her having to pay anything. I asked her to make the donation and she said she would be very pleased to do so."

The tramp looked thoughtful. "Can I ask y' somethin', Moike?"

"What is it, Charlie?"

"Why didn't y' ever wash yer clothes or take a bath…the Mission 'as facilities…"

"To tell you the truth, Charlie, at first, I realized I didn't know how to wash them…never had to do it myself. Then I realized it was a lot easier just keeping the clothes on. You don't have to bother with a bath either. People stayed away from me too…I take it I smelled bad…you were smelling quite lovely yourself…"

"Yeah, I noticed tha' lovely odour too, the noigh' y' came t' th' door…"

"And sometimes I shaved and washed my hands and face. But when I was drunk, which was pretty much of the time, I didn't remember to do those things. And people staying out of my way was exactly what I wanted. I didn't want to mix with most of those nasty tramps."

"Bu' y' were one of 'em…" said Charlie, opening his eyes wide with surprise.

"Yes," laughed Mike. "I got over it, but by the time I did, they had decided I smelled too bad to go near me. Some of those nasty tramps are as snobbish as I am."

The tramp laughed. Mike was a strange chap!

"What about yer drinkin', Moike. I ain't done none o' tha' while I was livin' yer loife, an' y' gotta stop or yer gonna kill yerse'f… I think y' nearly killed me...why didja start anyway?"

"Well, after my wife died…"

"Me sympathies, Moike, bu' tha' was a long toime ago. Y' gotta think o' Annie an' yer Mum."

"Of course, you're right. I promise you I will get some help." He laughed. "I never thought I'd be taking advice from a tramp…"

Charlie laughed too.

Mike left the room and Charlie found some clothes that, although they were too big, weren't too bad. He looked at himself in the looking glass. Outside of his slightly puffy eyes, he looked almost like himself again and the clothes, while they don't make the man, certainly don't hurt.

He came down the steps jauntily for the first time, enjoying the lightness and agility of his body. As he entered the dining room, Mike introduced him.

"Mother, this is one of my closest friends. We share the same first name. You can call him Charlie. Charlie, this is my mother Eleanore O'Sullivan."

The tramp bowed and kissed her hand. "Please t' meet y' Ma'am."

"Yes, I am pleased to meet you too, Charlie. Odd, your voice is so familiar." She took a hard look at the tramp. "You look exactly like that rude little man that…" Then she stopped and smiled. "Well, it doesn't matter."

After breakfast, the tramp took his leave of the O'Sullivans, having thanked them graciously for the donation to the mission. Mike offered him a chauffeured ride back to the mission, but the tramp wanted to walk. It felt so good to be himself.

When he arrived, he looked for Rebecca and Daisy. It was after breakfast and the volunteers were cleaning up. "Charlie!" yelled a little voice, as Daisy ran out to see her friend. He picked her up and whirled her around. "Charlie, I knew you'd be back …when I woke up in the mission!"

"Charlie? Or is it Mike?" said Rebecca, coming out from her office. "I'm not sure…"

"It's me, Charlie."

"You look different. It's so odd. You and Mike could almost be twins. Mike looked like he hadn't been eating well lately, he's so thin; you look really thin too…that's why I thought you were him…you don't look yourself, Charlie. Have you been drinking?"

"Well, yes an' no…"

"What does that mean?"

"It's a long story, Ma'am…"

"Charlie, why don't you call me Rebecca…we've known each other a long time… And where have you been all this time?"

He smiled.

"I been visitin' someone…"

"Who?"

"Mr O'Sullivan."

"You know him?"

"Yeah. Qui' well, in fac'. 'E gave me somethin' fer y'…f' th' mission…" He handed her the $10,000 cheque.

"Oh, my!" she gasped. 'I never expected anything like this…Even $100 would be very generous…Charlie, I'll have to make you my main fundraiser," she laughed. "How did you ever do this?"

"It weren't easy, Rebecca. I dunno if I could do it again…"

"Well, come in and sit down. Have you had breakfast?"

"Yeah, wi' the O'Sullivans."

"So how did you get to know him? What's he like?"

"Tell me firs', y' seem t' know the chap, name o' Moike."

"Yes. Do you know him too, Charlie?"

"Yeah."

"He's taken over your room. I only allow him here at night, but now that you're back, I will make him take another room. I wonder if he's up there this morning. Sometimes I have to pull him out of bed to get him up so we can clean the room. I should make him sleep in the dormitory, but he caused such a fuss the few times I did, that I just gave up."

"No, 'e ain 't up there….I know tha' f' a fac'."

"Charlie, you're talking nonsense! How do you know that, you haven't even looked."

"R'becca, a strange thing 'appen t' me them months ago…" The tramp related the story of how he and O'Sullivan had exchanged lives and each was mistaken for his counterpart. "So, y' see, Ma'am, Moike was really the bum wha' was livin' 'ere an' I was O'Sullivan, livin in 'is mansion…"

Rebecca looked at the tramp, then burst out laughing. "Charlie, are you sure you're not drunk…or are you joking? That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard! You exchanged lives…come on!

"It's true…we switch'd loives. I met 'is Mum and lived in 'is 'ouse. 'E 'apparently lived as me, loike a tramp. I c'n prove it…Th' day O'Sullivan come t' see y'…I _was_ 'im…

"Charlie…stop this little charade…"

"R'becca," said the tramp, "Y' was flirtin' wi' O'Sullivan tha'day… I sawr y' mese'f…'cause I _was _'im! Y' was lickin' 'is boot tops b' cause y' thought 'e was gonna give y' money f' th' mission. Wha' was it y' said?"

The tramp launched into a perfect impression of Rebecca speaking to the rich man, complete with falsetto voice and overdone feminine actions_,"It's good to see you, sir, you are Mr O'Sullivan, aren't you? Oh, it's just so nice to have someone like yourself think about us." _The tramp took Rebecca's hand in his as she had done on the previous occasion. He went on with his impression: _"It's always a pleasure to have someone like you come and see us…"_ The tramp put his arm around Rebecca as she had done. Then he sat her down again at the table and looked at her.

"Y' still think I'm lyin'?"

"You really _were _there? That was you, not O'Sullivan? But how?"

"I dunno. Bu' it was me…y' seemed t' think I was pur'dy 'andsome too…y'was flirtin' wi' me t' beat th' band. Touchin' an 'uggin me…why if I 'ad really been a rich chap, I migh' no' liked no mission lydy 'uggin me like tha'…"

"Hmmm. Frankly, I was only doing it, hoping that I would get some money for the mission. I didn't realize I was so obvious. "She smiled.

He laughed.

"I don't know why I believe this weird story, Charlie, but I suppose I do." She stopped to think a moment. "You know, O'Sullivan did talk exactly like you…. One thing though, you said Daisy was there with you all the time. But she was with me all the time too. How do you explain that?"

"Th' girl wha' was wi' y' was Moike's daughter…Moike bein' Charles Michael O'Sullivan."

"I suppose that makes sense. Daisy was the only volunteer besides myself that would talk to Mike. I was proud of her. She would even sit and eat with him. But tell me, how did this switch happen?"

"I dunno. Only thing whato makes sense is tha' I was wishin' real 'ard one noigh' when I was ou' in th' cold. I was wishin' tha' I was a rich chap wha' could afford a car and a warm 'ouse t' go t'…an' 'ave some money…It was th' noigh' tha' I arrived 'ere…"

"What about O'Sullivan?"

"Moike was sorrowful 'cause 'is wife died couple years past an' 'is Mum was drivin' im' t' drink, literally or so 'e said. Then 'e 'ad th' accident wha' lef' 'is leg bad an' 'e couldn't ge' around s' good, an' 'is Mum was naggin' on 'im…"E said 'e was wishin' f' a life o' freedom…"

"It looks like both of you got what you wished for…but you found that someone elses' life isn't all it seemed."

The tramp nodded. "I 'ave t' ge' back t' work, Ma'am. Soon them tramps'll be comin' in t' eat…"

Rebecca smiled and they both went back to work.

* * *

Daisy's cat, Charlotte, jumped up on the bed, landing on Charlie's chest. The tramp awoke with a start. He sat up in bed. _What a weird dream! _he thought, petting the cat idly as she purred. Changing places with a millionaire, indeed! He laughed. It was an interesting thought though.

He looked at the window. The sun was just beginning to come up. He would have perhaps another hour to sleep before he had to start his mission chores for the day. He was so thankful he had a job and food and a good place to sleep. He wanted to do the best job he could. He snuggled back in bed and pulled the cover over him. Then he wondered what time it really was. He always put his pocket watch on the table beside the bed (at least since he had been living at the mission.) He reached for it and snapped opened the cover. It was 5:15 am. He could indeed sleep a bit longer.

The tramp closed his eyes and thought once more about his odd dream. Then his eyes popped open again. He picked up the pocket watch and looked at it. It wasn't his watch. He turned it over and read, _To Michael Patrick O'Sullivan - for Twenty-five years of service. 1890._


	13. Post Script

Chapter 13 - Conclusion

Post Script

The tramp wondered how he had gotten O' Sullivan's pocket watch. He dressed quickly and ran down the stairs. Daisy was already downstairs helping her mother.

"R'becca, R'becca!" shouted the tramp, frantically.

"Charlie, do sit down. Now, what's the trouble?"

"I 'afta do somethin'…"

"Where are you going?"

"I need t' go see Mrs O' Sullivan…May I 'ave th' mornin off?"

"Certainly…do you know Mrs O'Sullivan? Are you talking about the banking family?" She sounded confused.

"I'm no' sure…" The tramp put on his derby and took his bamboo cane. He straightened his tie and collar and brushed off his clothes. Then satisfied that he looked good, he headed for the door.

"Charlie….do you know where they live?"

"Yeah, I do…"

Daisy ran in to see her friend leaving…"Mama, can I go with Charlie?" Her mother nodded and smiled.

"Daisy, d' y' know anything' 'bout Mr O'Sullivan? Do y' know who 'e is?" asked the tramp, as they started walking.

"I had a strange dream about him. I don't know him, but I did in my dream. It was weird. You were him. And he was you… And he has a bad leg…."

"Int'restin', Daisy. Tha's th' same dream wha' I 'ad…"

The tramp and Daisy walked the few miles to the O'Sullivan mansion, on the outskirts of town. It was just as in the dream. They walked up the long driveway and knocked at the door.

Templeton answered the door. "Yes?" he said looking at the tramp disapprovingly.

"We come t' see Mrs O'Sullivan, Sir," said Charlie, tipping his hat politely.

"She is not home. Is that all?" said the butler, wanting to dismiss the tramp quickly and close the door.

"C'n we wait?" asked Charlie.

"Perhaps the Master would deign to see you…let me find out. Who shall I say is calling?"

"Say it's Charlie an' Daisy from the Mission."

He shut the door and the tramp looked at Daisy and shrugged. The butler had been abrupt and almost rude when they had lived there too…then the tramp remembered he had only lived there in his dream.

The door opened again. "The Master will see you." The butler held it wide this time to let the visitors in. The butler led them into the drawing room, where O'Sullivan was on the settee, his left leg resting on the ottoman.

"Ah, Charlie. I've wanted to meet you." He took his cane and made a move to get up.

Charlie tipped his hat, then took it off. "Don' ge' up; I know wha' y' leg feels loike…"

"What can I do for you?"

"I came t' return yer gran'father's watch…" He handed the watch to O'Sullivan.

"Thank you. And here's yours. I don't know how they got mixed up:" He handed Charlie his old familiar railroad-style watch."

"Thank y, Sir!"

"Charlie, you can just call me Mike….after all we've been pretty close…."

"Did y' 'ave a dream, too?"

"I did. Although I have doubts that it was a dream."

"Wha' d' y' mean, Moike?"

"The dream seemed quite real. I apparently exchanged lives with you. I lived your life as a tramp…there is a certain freedom to it….but it's a hard life…I don't know how you do it."

"Then I saw you come in the mission one day…I recognized that you were me. But you had more class than I would have…I would have been rude and insulting and arrogant. You were very kind." He gave a wry smile.

"I learned somethin' from me dream, Moike…ain't no one's life as good f' y'self bu' y' own."

"I agree, Charlie."

The two very different men talked for several hours. Charlie learned that Mike had decided to get help for his drinking problem. His mother and he had become very close and he didn't want to spoil that relationship. He also felt more responsibility in bringing up his daughter. Daisy sought out Annie and the two girls played with each other. And the girls didn't believe it had ever been a dream.

When the tramp was ready to go, Mike insisted on seeing him to the door.

"You are welcome in my home any time. Come see me. I enjoy your company."

* * *

One year and a few months later, a tall man in a top hat, ebony cane and Inverness cape strode into the mission. He limped a bit on his left leg, but his stride otherwise was fast and confident. Rebecca came out to see the visitor.

"Mr O'Sullivan," said Rebecca in greeting. "What can I do for you?" He had blue eyes and dark curly hair, very similar to the tramp's. His smiling face made him look quite attractive and handsome.

He reached in his pocket. "I have something for the mission, Ma'am."

"Please call me Rebecca, Sir." She looked at the check. It was another large donation. "Oh, thank you sir, you are very generous."

"And it's Mike, Rebecca. By the way, where is Charlie? He hasn't come by to see me lately…"

"He hasn't been here for several months, now, Mike. He told me it was time to move on. He said he probably would be back some time, whenever the wind blows him this way. Daisy got herself in a very bad state over it…She actually wanted to go with him…He had to leave in the middle of the night so she wouldn't follow him."

"Yes, that's the lifestyle I envied for a while, but it takes a certain kind of person to live that way." Charlie had told Mike that he had explained everything that had happened to Rebecca. "It was too difficult for me."

"I think he found your life difficult too, Mike. Won't you come and sit down?" Mike took a seat and he and Rebecca talked for several hours. They discussed the tramp, who somehow had helped Mike turn his life around.

"Thanks to Charlie's encouragement, I'm getting along with my mother again. I enjoy being around her now. I'm back in the theatre too." Mike didn't want to mention it, but he had gotten help for his alcoholism too.

Rebecca smiled. "You look wonderful, Mike."

"Thank you, "he smiled.

In the following weeks and months, Mike and Rebecca got to know each other better and spent long evenings talking. Mike was fascinated with Rebecca because she looked exactly like his deceased wife Maggie. The Mission became his pet charity.

In time, a romance blossomed and Charles Michael O'Sullivan the 2nd soon had a new bride and 'twin' 9-year old daughters.

As for Charlie the Tramp, he walked down the road of life happily, taking one day at a time and being careful what he wished for.

**The End**


End file.
